Scarlet Sea
by Rothelena
Summary: Holiday fic- Jane is back. The team hates him, and Lisbon is sad because of feelings she can neither acknowledge nor ignore. Jane knows: if he can make her happy again, the team might take him back- and what's better to wrap a woman around his little finger than a romantic holiday? Unfortunately, his own feelings run deeper than he realized... Hurt/Comfort! Rated M!
1. Chapter 1

_Pretty risky to publish this now, but I wanted to hear your opinion- I have NOTHING for this story so far, only this one chapter and the vague idea of some hardcore Patrick Jane wooing :D… I haven't written a second chapter yet, so I can't promise that I'll update every day, and I haven't written an outline yet, so I have no idea where this will be going (but I'm SURE the story will tell me). All I know is that I need a holiday-fic right now, and "Seducing Patrick Jane" is SO 2011 ;)… so I thought I should write something new. As I said, this could turn out super fluffy, or pretty angsty, or both, or sappy, or funny, or, or, or… no idea yet. Just tell me if you want me to continue, and I see what the evil voice inside my mind whispers tomorrow._

_I rated this M, because, sorry: a luxury resort in the Florida Keys, a romantic bungalow directly on the beach, sun, sand and the turquoise ocean and Jane and Lisbon totally in love with each other without acknowledging it yet? I don't have to say anything more, do I? So: RATED M! _

_Oh yes, if you want to know more about the Little Palm Island resort, take a look at my blog (address in my profile)- I'll post a link there this afternoon :D._

_Disclaimer: I don't own "The Mentalist", and I don't make money from fan fiction._

**Scarlet Sea**

They hated him, and he absolutely couldn't imagine why that hurt so much. He'd been despised and rejected before, oh yes. It had never bothered him, never.

Patrick Jane had one single purpose in his life: catch Red John and make him pay. Nothing else mattered, nothing.

He was on this Earth to exact his revenge, a dark-winged avenger, ready to be obnoxious and annoying and utterly unlikeable in order to reach his goal. He certainly wasn't here to make friends and play the knight in shining armor.

So why did it hurt so much that Grace gave him the silent treatment, that Cho didn't even look at him and Rigsby sometimes watched him with an expression of pity on his easily readable face?

Five weeks since he'd returned from Las Vegas, since the chips had come down in the desert. Still nobody laughed when he made a joke, nobody allowed him to buy closed case pizza. Cho refused to go on field missions with him. Grace leaned away when he looked over her shoulder at something she showed him on her computer. Rigsby didn't know where to look when he tried to make conversation.

They made it more than clear every minute of the day: for them, Patrick Jane wasn't part of their team any longer.

His heart clenched. Oh yes, that hurt. Even worse was that his shield and sword, his one bastion of comfort and protection hid in her office constantly, sad and confused, refusing to smile or banter with him.

And that was the main reason the team couldn't even stand his presence. Everybody knew he had hurt her, hurt her so much she was a shadow of herself these days. He had read all the emotions on her beautiful face, the lines of worry and love, of sleepless nights thinking about him, had seen the look of confusion when Loralei had spilled that they had been… intimate. It had affected her. A little jealousy, much fear for his sanity, pain about the fact that he hadn't told her himself…

She didn't know what she was supposed to think any longer, and had pulled back. Completely. Functioned like a machine, filled her little forms, was the perfect boss. Not a smile. Not a personal word. No sweet little phone calls to inquire what he was up to. No bantering in her car. In fact, she rarely took him to interviews, intent on soldiering on alone.

She mostly paired him with Cho, who refused to acknowledge his presence and always "forgot" him in the bullpen. Jane could have squeezed his way into the investigations, but he preferred to stay on his couch, brooding. Why should he use his mental abilities to force them to accept his help when they clearly didn't want it?

He looked in the direction of her office, his skin prickling with sudden longing.

He'd given up on storming into her personal space, trying to cheer her up with snarky comments and funny remarks. She always looked at him so sadly that he became sad himself, and sadness was a feeling he avoided if he could, it made him weak and slow and overly sentimental, an easy target for feelings he couldn't and wouldn't acknowledge.

He rubbed his hand over his leg, a habit he'd developed to diffuse the tension- whenever the urge to touch her became too strong. He couldn't indulge, couldn't form his happy little bubble in the midst of chaos and insanity. Couldn't hurt her even worse.

But he could still remember how she had felt in his arms, the infinitely small, warm body, like that of a delicate little bird. He had felt the strength inside her petiteframe, had always known it was there. But in that moment in time, she had been nothing but soft, warm woman, the center of his need and longing, everything he wished for.

He took a sip of his lukewarm tea, it tasted bitter, and tears sprang to his eyes. Yes, he had bungled this. Had caught Red John's minion, but lost his haven of comfort and safety in the process.

He lowered his turquoise cup to the saucer and worried his lower lip. He was Patrick Jane, dammit. There had to be something he could do to charm his way back into the team.

He pretended to be asleep when Lisbon left her office to go home and almost pulled her into his arms when she came over and carefully covered him with a warm comforter. She pressed a chaste kiss on his temple and he had to fight to keep his breathing patterns calm and relaxed.

When she walked away and he heard the distinct ringing of the lift approaching, tears started to spill. Hold me, he thought desperately, hold me through the night, make the cold go away. I'm so, so sorry, and it's more than empty words this time. I miss you, Teresa Lisbon. Miss you so much I can't breathe.

He remembered the many lonely nights in his motel in Las Vegas and sobbed helplessly into the worn leather of his couch, disgusted at himself for being so childish and vulnerable and damn weak, for letting love crawl under his skin like that. But it took him a while before he could get his tears under control- and continue to plot his scheme.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Why could she never stop herself from touching him?

Her insides were a festering wound, and she sat in the darkness on the couch in her lonely apartment, too sad to watch TV or eat or read a book. She was crying, but since that had been her normal state for more than half a year now, it didn't bother her especially tonight.

What was the matter with her?

The passion was gone. Life was as dull and lonely as it ever had been before.

_What did I say? I was pretty hyped up._

Was that a no? Why hadn't she inquired further? Yes, because she had no idea what she was feeling herself. And that was the biggest lie of all, so big it was like an elephant in her living room, staring at her out of drilling, squinty eyes.

She knew it. Had always known it in a way. And that meant she was doomed.

What a nice feeling.

She had felt like a fool when jealousy had pushed into her heart the moment Loralei had announced that she and Jane had been lovers. She couldn't stop the feeling, had felt helpless and hurt, all the time scolding herself for being such an embarrassing child, jeopardizing their so far biggest success in the Red John investigation for the sake of her personal feelings.

They were petty. Childish. Utterly unimportant. And so strong and deep they put everything she had lived for in question.

There was no future with Jane, he couldn't even be nice to her sometimes, was utterly absorbed in his hunt, a bottomless hole who took and took and couldn't give back. But her fingertips craved his skin, and when she saw him sleeping on his couch before she left in the evening, she tucked him in and kissed him goodnight, every damn time. It was like a compulsion, and she had no doubt that if she refused to do it, denied her lips that short moment of contact, her internal organs would combust one by one and she would bleed out on the elevator floor in seconds.

Patrick Jane had showed her that she had never loved before. Because this feeling? She sure as hell would remember it.

She hated it when she was small and ineffective. She couldn't even make Jane feel better, caught in her own loop of sorrow and grief. She had always comforted him when he was down, it was as much a part of her as her right arm.

Loralei had touched him- his whole body, in places that were utterly taboo to Lisbon. He had kissed her, and she him- his lips, his skin, maybe everywhere. He had found that moment of release in her arms, the nameless bliss of sexual gratification… a lazy play of lips in the aftermath.

Lisbon swallowed dryly, a surge of nausea filling her throat.

She absolutely shouldn't think about that, jealousy was for sentimental idiots who still believed in the victory of romantic love, Omnia Vincit Amor, Love Conquers All, it was a lie, a fantasy, mist and dust, but still she pictured their kisses, watched Loralei sample what she had been denied, her heart bloody and torn, pumping blood into an empty cavity.

_What did I say?_

She hadn't asked him what he had felt when he had slept with Red John's servant. In a way, she didn't want to know, was too scared to know.

She was so stupid. Nothing but a weak woman, the strength of her cop-attitude, the one she had fought for all her life, falling away under the solemn gaze of his light green eyes, sparkling like greenish glass in the sun.

She had lost everything and had no idea how she could ever retrieve what had formed her life all those years, it was gone, and she couldn't find out how much of herself really remained.

Loneliness ate at her, the darkness forming eerie shadows in her living room.

She looked at the cup in her hand, the liquid inside it sloshing under the tremor of her hands, and got up to pour the cold coffee into the sink.

Xxxxxxxxxx

"What about effectivity , Madeleine? I bet we could do better, couldn't we?"

Patrick Jane looked at the elegantly dressed woman in front of him and smiled. He bet she had sworn never to go along with one of his plans again. And now her resistance was melting like ice in the Californian sun- and he had hardly started his little speech.

Hightower leaned forward, trying to intimidate him. Yeah, as if that would work. His smile deepened.

"Team's morals are thoroughly busted due to your latest stunt, Jane," Hightower said, "you lost their trust. Things like that take time to heal."

"And meanwhile, we don't close any cases because everybody is shunning the big bad consultant who ran away and made mommy cry? That can't be the solution, Madeleine."

Hightower closed her eyes in exasperation.

"You hurt her, Jane. Badly. I don't have to remind you what she did for you, do I? You shouldn't make fun of this, even you can't be that cold."

She was right- he wasn't. And sometimes he hated himself for it.

"I can make it all better, Madeleine. Just give me some time alone with the team, and I'll be good. We're not accomplishing anything anyway, are we? Release us for three weeks- I'm paying."

Madeleine sighed, and he already knew she would relent.

"Fine. You can go on an official team-building excursion. Three weeks, starting next week. I won't leave the team a choice, but you owe me for that, Jane."

"Don't worry, Madeleine, I'll…"

"If you bungle this," Hightower interrupted, "you're entirely on your own. And if you hurt Lisbon any more than you already did, I'll have your hide for that. I mean it, Jane."

He smiled, but he didn't feel especially smug inside. He wouldn't bungle this. He would fight, bleed and suffer to kiss it better.

And now, he had some research to do.

Xxxxxxxxxx

"That's not up to discussion," Hightower growled, "so back off, Agent Cho. This team is still thoroughly affected by what has happened in Las Vegas, and you all know it. Patrick Jane is our most valuable asset, and we can't stop wiping killers from the city just because you decided that you don't like him anymore. Agent Lisbon, my decision is final. You will go on a three week excursion to the Little Palm Island resort in the Florida Keys, taking your whole team- INCLUDING Mr. Jane. That's an order."

Jane cringed slightly when he looked at Lisbon. She seemed to have lost her will to fight, wanted only to get this over with. His heart ached for her, and for a moment he felt so deeply ashamed he was afraid it would be visible on his face.

"Whatever you wish, Ma'am," Lisbon said softly, "I'm sure we can survive three weeks in a luxury resort in the Keys. I'll make every effort to get the team back on track."

Hightower's voice was warm and gentle when she spoke again.

"I know that, Teresa," she said, "nobody is more capable to lead this team than you are. I depend on you."

Lisbon looked a little doubtful, and Jane wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around her, pull her close, whisper words of trust and reassurance, but the team glared hostilely at him, ready to protect their beautiful alpha wolf.

So Jane backed off, looking at Cho who was clearly pissed beyond words. He sighed. He really, really hoped his not very well thought-out plan would work.

The team dispersed, chattering excitedly with each other. Yes, no matter how angry you were- three weeks of paid holidays in the Keys always did the trick in the end, that was what he'd been counting on.

Lisbon looked at him, her eyes deep and sad and beautiful, before she turned and marched into her office, firmly closing the door behind her.

Hightower turned to Jane.

"Little Palm Island? That has to cost you a fortune, Jane!"

He chuckled.

"Pretty much, but I have no doubt it will be worth it."

"I don't need to remind you that this is an UNPAID holiday", Hightower said, "so we know who's gonna pay the agent's wages during those three weeks, don't we, Jane?"

"Don't worry, Madeleine. I'll thoroughly bleed for this and pay everything."

She nodded slowly and turned to walk away. But shortly before she left the bullpen, she turned and looked at him.

"Remember, Jane," she said, "you make mommy smile again, the kids will start to accept you."

His stomach felt hollow, carved in. He had chewed on pain for so long now he felt starved for life, laughter, any feeling happier than the poisonous cocktail of hurt feelings he had been swallowing daily since Teresa Lisbon's sun had stopped shining for him.

"That's what I plan on doing, Madeleine." He said.

"I don't talk party tricks and a magician's illusions, Jane," she answered, "this time, you'll have to give more than that."

Jane looked at her, feeling dizzy with fear. He'd rarely been this scared in his life.

"I told you," he whispered, "I'll bleed for her."

_So- Hmmmm? I don't know if I can update tomorrow, but I'm willing to try. Do you think I should continue? It will get romantic for sure ;), and I need a little sunshine (AWFUL weather in Germany at the moment). Tell me what you think, please! See you soon!_


	2. Chapter 2

_This is turning out to be much more angsty than I anticipated, so be prepared- there's a lot of hurt running rampant here, and they have to untangle a lot of knot to regain their balance!_

**Chapter 2**

Patrick Jane loved airports, the buzz, so many faces to read, gestures to explore, the enormous size of the planes, noises, smells, excitement. He was like a little boy in that regard and would have enjoyed every second of it had there not been the three angry people glaring at his back. Them, and one pale, very sad little princess.

Lisbon didn't talk much, but that wasn't new to him. He had hardly heard her voice those past weeks, missed her stern lectures and exasperated scolding as much as her adorable smile. He sighed. Everything had changed, and he had no idea if he could mend the cuts this time.

The huge body of the jet hummed beneath his feet when he entered the plane, and he would have liked to clap his hands and jump up and down with glee. He didn't, of course, it would have looked mighty suspicious since his travel companions looked as if they were going to a funeral.

He tried to lighten the mood, for about the millionth time.

The plane was smallish, just an inland flight, so it had two seats next to each window and three seats in the middle row.

"Okay," Jane exclaimed cheerfully, "we have one window seat, one middle seat, three on the aisle- any preferences?"

Without saying a single word (no surprise there, they had given him the silent treatment all day) his three fellow agents slipped into the middle row and flopped down in their seats, glaring defiantly at him.

"Okay," he said flatly, "Lisbon- do you want the window seat?"

She looked a little panicked for a second, her fingers fidgeting nervously with her pants.

"Uhm, you know what, Jane? You take the window seat, and I'm gonna sit next to you, okay?"

He smiled at her and slipped into his seat, feeling pretty tired all of a sudden.

"They will snap out of it, Jane," Lisbon said softly." Just give them some time. They are overly protective of me, not that I ever asked for that kind of loyalty, but it's the way they are. Don't give up on them. We…still need you. They will see that eventually."

He forced another smile, but it fell short. He had always been happy to be solitary in his fight, had always seen friendship and close relations as a burden that might slow him down, weaken his resolve, but right now he wished nothing more than to be a normal guy like everybody else, ready to meet his friends for a beer and a nice, friendly, NORMAL chat.

He averted his eyes, looking out of the window to mask the uproar of unwanted feelings. He concentrated on the things happening in front of the plane to diffuse the unbearable tension that seemed to fill the space around him.

"Look, Lisbon," he cried out, "they just finished refueling our plane, can't be long now, ohhhhhh, I can't wait for the take-off, that's the best moment when you're flying…"

He stopped when he noticed her unmistakable tension next to him. She looked down at her hands, the tiny fingers trembling, her lips pressed into a thin line.

Tenderness washed through him like a flash flood, so strong he was almost shocked for a moment. Her long, shiny dark hair flowed over her slim shoulders, framing her pale, heart-shaped face, the skin sprinkled here and there with adorable freckles. Her eyes were huge, pools of green moss, swallowing him like a tasty snack. Damn, she was beautiful. He looked at everyone. Why did he rarely take the time to look at her?

"You don't like flying at all, do you?" He asked gently.

She smiled almost shyly at him, and tears sprang to his eyes, threatening to spill before he stopped them briskly. She smiled. At him. He hadn't known how much he had really missed that until now.

"No, I hate it," she whispered, "I'm scared. It's ridiculous, isn't it?"

He smiled back, the gesture felt good on his lips, like waking up from deep slumber slightly cramped, but relaxed and full of energy.

"Not at all," he said and took her hand in his, feeling the delicate bones through the softness and warmth of her skin. "But there's nothing to be scared about. See this coin? The light catches on the metal, and when I turn it like this… you can see it lighting up shortly, do you see it?"

She nodded quietly, watching the Quarter in his hand with wide, attentive eyes.

He continued to turn the coin, light, dark, light, dark, his voice low and soft. Her fingers calmed under his until they rested against his skin in perfect stillness.

"Do you see the light, Lisbon, the spark of the sun- lighting our coin again, and again. Why don't you sleep now, my love… deep and peaceful, your breath going in and out, in and out… and when we reach our destination, I will stroke your cheek, and you will wake up, rested and invigorated."

He put the coin in his vest pocket and brushed his free hand over her face to place the trigger, and Lisbon slowly slumped against his body, her head landing on his shoulder. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her breathing became calm and steady.

He smiled and stroked his thumb over the back of her hand, scooting down in his seat to make her position more comfortable. It was nice to sit with her like this, as if they were a couple on the way to their honeymoon, happy and blissfully oblivious to the ways of the world.

He closed his eyes in pain. He would never have this wonderful kind of ignorance again, it was lost to him, the confidence gone, no matter what he outwardly portrayed.

He turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss onto Lisbon's hair, savoring her sweet, addictive scent and the warmth of her slight body so close to him.

When the plane's frame started to vibrate in clear indication that the take-off was very near, he checked if her seat belt was properly fastened and put his arm around her shoulders, holding her close.

Looking up, he caught Grace staring at him, her eyes narrowed and suspicious. He smiled cheerily, but she just frowned and averted her gaze.

Jane sighed , blowing air out of his nostrils. This could be the longest three weeks of his "career" at the CBI.

He closed his eyes and continued to nuzzle Lisbon's hair, drowning his insecurities in the safety of her touch, holding her tiny hand like a priceless treasure.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Teresa Lisbon felt strange when she parted the flimsy curtains leading onto her deck. This was like some kind of out-of-the-world-fantasy, she'd never been in a place like this and felt slightly lost. It was entirely Jane's style of the old days, though: small, secluded bungalows, separated from the main buildings, screaming luxury with every fiber. Elegant, sturdy wooden furniture, directly at the ocean.

It was hot and humid, and her tight jeans were chafing her skin. She wasn't the type for flimsy summer dresses and bikinis, but she guessed she would bite the bullet in order to survive the heat.

She yawned and stretched her frame thoroughly. She had fallen asleep before the plane had taken off, thanks to Jane's tricks, and felt surprisingly well rested now.

With a sigh she marched into the bathroom and took off her clothes, taking a deep breath of relief when she finally got rid of her pants.

She spent quite a time under the shower, letting the lukewarm water cascade down her body, wash away the grime the journey had left on her skin. She felt a million times better when she finally left the bathroom, still slightly damp, smelling like coconut from the delicious body wash provided by the resort.

She had packed lots of flimsy garments in a bout of foresight (okay- the travel guide had told her about the climate) and chose a simple white dress made of thin, flowing cotton. Underwear wasn't required- she would hide here for the rest of the evening, the sun was already setting, and she had no desire to see anybody.

The burst of longing inside her guts called her a liar. She had woken up with her hand inside his, and he had smiled at her, giving her even more feelings she didn't need, the compulsion getting stronger and stronger every time he touched her, came oh so close… she let her eyes flutter shut and tried to sense him, feel his presence in the midst of all this luxury. She felt sad and lost and pretty scared all of a sudden. The fear that he could simply leave again, just like that, out of her reach, gone, accompanied her everywhere these days, and she scolded herself for being strange and clingy.

He wasn't hers, for god's sake! She had no business wanting him close.

But it took every ounce of her will power to stop herself from searching for him, just to make sure he was fine and not too far away from her.

She lay down on the bed and curled into a ball, her stomach growling in quiet demand. She felt slightly nauseous, though, so she just closed her eyes and willed the world away.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Grace van Pelt looked out from her wooden deck, sprawled on one of the various chairs. The sun was just sinking behind the horizon, leaving a soft orange hue on the stark blue, twilit sky. She had shared a quiet dinner with Cho and Rigsby, nursing a slightly bad conscience because they hadn't even bothered to invite Jane- he had paid for all of this after all.

On the other hand, the guy was a class A asshole who never thought about anyone but himself, so…

She groaned. She had so hoped he would prove himself worthy of their trust. Would become better and better, more… normal. Responsible. Nice. Hell, simply trustworthy!

But he had run away, following the next deluded plan, playing another scheme that could get him and everybody close to him killed, and she was not even talking about him risking their careers all the time.

She had suffered, too, dammit, not as much as Jane had, but enough to lose a part of her soul forever. And she hadn't become completely crazy in the aftermath. Yes, Red John had destroyed her life, too. But she wouldn't sacrifice herself in a futile chase for revenge. It would be like letting him win- serving the killer her essence on a silver platter. Never.

She was here, she was alive, she would look fate in the eye. Would pull through. After all, she had always been a fighter.

She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.

She had never, ever in her life admired another person like she admired Teresa Lisbon. Not even her wonderful father.

To see Lisbon crumble had been almost worse than shooting Craig. She had been the rock for all of them when the chips had come down, only to break like glass when Jane had left them, refusing to take her calls, shunning her completely.

Her boss had merely functioned afterwards, wearing her sadness like a cloak, unable to hide how much she'd worried about him every day, how much she had missed him- so much Grace had been speechless with awe, for Lisbon's feelings might be excruciatingly deep and passionate, but they hadn't destroyed her.

She had ploughed on, every day, struggling to maintain her balance, survive.

She was so… good, so pure, she deserved to be called a saint like no other Grace had ever met.

Next to her, Jane's smile almost contorted into the grimace of evil, his core tainted by Red John, maybe beyond redemption. Something inside Grace refused to give up hope, shared Lisbon's infallible belief in Jane's goodness, buried beneath layers of lies and deceptions, but there, somehow, anywhere, ready to be found by the angel of brightness… she swallowed.

She was unsure if Lisbon could save him, even Lisbon, who had so much sunshine inside her despite her dark past, who was everybody's warrior princess, never ready to relent until the last drop of blood was spilled.

Grace's loyalty was hers- Teresa Lisbon's, and it was her she longed to protect.

Unfortunately, ignoring Jane wasn't a long-term solution- for Lisbon needed him so much, her equilibrium depended on his closeness, his willingness to behave like a responsible adult, a sensible being with feelings, dammit, just a tiny little bit… her boss sucked up every trace of humanity Jane showed, nourishing the hope that he wasn't completely gone, that he would be able to establish steady relationships eventually, that not every smile, every nice word, every compliment was a fake…

At least, that Jane seemed clearly bothered by the cold shoulder they were showing him was a start.

But to make him see, to help him realize what was really important in life, they had to kick his butt.

Lisbon was much too nice to him. He didn't deserve her. And to change that, Jane needed to eat a huge piece of the humble pie first.

And this time, they wouldn't take him back until he'd proven his worth. Until he'd showed them that he was for real.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Jane took a piece of bread and wiped the last trace of sauce from his plate. Delicious.

He had chosen to take dinner in his bungalow, knowing full well the team wouldn't appreciate his company, and he needed to think anyway.

His soul reached out to Lisbon automatically, he couldn't really stop it. He hoped she was warm and safe and well-fed, having a great time on his expense, spreading his money generously. But he knew she was not, of course, probably lying all alone in her bungalow, unable to eat a single bite, just trying to make herself numb to all the pain and confusion inside her. He sighed.

He had been pondering plans to regain the team's affection for hours now, and every scheme had seemed shallow and dishonest and just not right. Maybe he couldn't win the teams affection back because he didn't deserve it. If there ever was a man who was rightfully hated, it was undoubtedly him.

Lisbon seemed downright depressive sometimes, and her flawless ability to do what was needed couldn't fool him. Her feelings for him went so far it scared him. He couldn't allow a mere complication like this into his life, couldn't risk getting vulnerable to anybody. But somehow, he couldn't turn away from her pain.

What had happened to deceiving, lying, cold? He could only beat Red John at his game if he was just as ruthless as the killer himself. Feelings had no business intruding, and he should use his energy to get rid of them instead of wooing three stubborn agents who had written him off as unreliable and mean anyway.

But he needed Lisbon. Without her, he would never catch Red John. Without allies, he was nothing but…alone.

He walked onto his deck. He had shed his vest and jacket and unbuttoned his shirt down to his sternum, the hot wind caressing his naked skin.

Tears were running down his face, the rivulets large like little rivers, and he analyzed the sensation almost clinically while sobs kept wrecking his body, making him shake like a leaf.

Teresa.

He was in this far too deep, knew inside his stony heart that he didn't want his fierce dark-haired angel just as an ally to catch Red John.

How had she managed to get under his skin like that, to rip him wide open- make him CRY, for god's sake.

Teresa.

His need for her was like a throbbing wound, he wanted her goodness to touch his rotten soul, soothing away the hurt and suffering that could never be buried deep enough.

Between him and death wasn't his undying thirst for vengeance, it was her. She was his last thought at night, she inhabited his dreams, his hopes. She was the beautiful fantasy he could never have, but couldn't let go either.

She was everything, alpha, omega, his answer to who he truly was.

In the moments he looked at Teresa Lisbon, Angela would be able to recognize him.

Only for those seconds he turned back into the man he had once been, his heart breaking free from its stony crust , pumping freely for a few precious beats, the blood-red organ it was meant to be, not the fortress of pain that inhabited his chest these days.

He looked out onto the ocean.

Nobody was an island. But he could try.

TBC

_Well- you see that this is obviously not turning into a sunbathing fantasy, sorry. As I said, I pretty much let my stories do what they want to (much as I do with my kids ;D), I'm not a stern writer-mommy… this little one seems to plan on getting a little more angsty, so brace yourself. I promise: there will be a happy ending (because I'm a sucker for happy endings), but that's all I can promise for now. I apologize to those who had hoped for a more light-hearted story, it just didn't happen. See you tomorrow (I hope)._


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Jane knocked again for the umpteenth time before he finally admitted defeat with an unhappy little groan. So they had left already- without him, what a surprise.

He could imagine what expected him in the dining room- stony silence, lethal glares.

But he wouldn't be Patrick Jane if he backed off now, and he was fed up with playing Hide and Seek. He would weather this out, no matter what it took, and he still had some tricks up his sleeve.

But there was nobody waiting for him in the dining room, and suddenly he realized that he wasn't particularly hungry. He filled a small plate anyway and sat down at one of the corner tables. This way, he would at least be able to people-watch, always a favorite pastime of his.

He felt brooding and disappointed. So yes, he hadn't imagined it to be that hard. He'd always been the master of charm and manipulation, so that he should be incapable of wriggling his way back into the team's good graces came as a surprise. Even Lisbon had avoided him this morning and hadn't reacted when he had knocked on her door. At 6 a.m., which was no time for her to be out and about.

There was only one explanation for his repeated failure to solve this mess: he had allowed this people much too close, had let them into a part of his life that should be reserved solely for him. He was a man on a mission and had lost his way, had irresponsibly tried to make friends. Maybe he should stop this before it went too far.

He forced himself to eat, to portray the arrogant, infallible con-man who almost burst with confidence and self-esteem, but every forkful of food tasted like lead. It was a cold day in hell when Patrick Jane didn't have fun eating, he thought with a humorless smile. But it was true: all the luxury meant nothing to him anymore. His old self was gone.

He was about to get up when he saw Grace enter the room, her stride brisk and vigorous, her expression clearly not amused. He braced himself. At least she obviously wanted to talk to him, since she walked in his direction in a more or less straight line.

"Good morning, my dear Grace," he cooed, "well, you look especially enchanting today. Isn't it another perfect day in paradise, what do you think?"

No answer. He pushed his plate away, any appetite gone now. All he could do was give a good show.

Grace sat down on the place farthest from him, pushing her chair away from the table.

"Grace," Jane said, "isn't this behavior starting to look a little bit childish to you? Do you think we have reached the point where you all can finally stop acting like pouty toddlers when I walk into the room? Because it's really getting…"

"How do you think she was feeling when you left, Jane?" Grace interrupted.

Jane closed his eyes for a second, just let them flutter shut, so, so tired all of a sudden. He wanted to get back into his bed and pull the blanket over his head.

"Who?" he asked innocently. "Oh- you mean the one and only, of course. Well, I'd think she was… angry and disappointed and tried to text me all the time…"

Words had never left him, they were his strongest weapon. But in this moment, he couldn't really say anything, wanted to run, to escape, stop playing the role he had adopted in his youth. He desperately wanted to be someone else.

"It almost destroyed her, "Grace hissed, "I've never seen her like that. Fighting to be strong for all of us, wearing her sadness like a cloak. We saw the dark rings under her eyes getting bigger and bigger, the worry for you eating at her, the slow realization how much you really mean to her dawning on her face, scaring her even more. Everybody else would be awed by this kind of devotion. But not you, Jane. Did you think about her at least once?"

Constantly. He'd been dreaming about her, every single night, had visualized her in his mind to keep him sane. He'd been surrounded by lies and ugliness. In the nights, he had hugged his pillow and imagined that it was her small body he was holding. That she was out there somewhere, thinking of him.

But he couldn't tell Grace that, so he stayed stubbornly silent, averting his eyes.

"I thought so," Grace snorted, "because that's what you do to us, Jane: you make us root for you, make us dying to help you, and then show us that you don't give a shit about us."

"Grace, that's not true…"

"Oh, Jane, no more lies, please. I'm not worried about me, you know. I can have a good laugh at myself. Oh, I fell for Jane's old tricks again, see how he manipulated me into risking my career and my future for him , AGAIN, while he went on another futile crusade. Ha, ha! No, Jane- I'm worried about HER. She's so strong- stronger than any other person I know, but hey, I have no doubt YOU will finish her off eventually. If somebody can do it, it's you."

Jane bit back the tears and tried to look arrogant, cool.

He longed to get up and leave, search for Teresa and make sure she was fine, fed, rested, warm. Not alone and desperate because of him, not suffering because he couldn't LOVE.

He didn't know what to say, his throat felt dry and sore.

"She loves you too much, Jane," Grace said softly, "and you know full well that you will never be able to reciprocate. Every day you're close, you make it worse, because we both know what will happen eventually- you will leave, kill someone, get one of us killed… you will disappoint her again. And she will still be loving you, desperate to fix you, make you whole. She's an angel, and her precious heart should never have belonged to you to begin with. Just this one time, Jane, do the responsible thing: put somebody else's safety before your own selfish needs. Make a clean cut. Leave the team for good. Allow her to grieve, allow us to be there for her. Just leave, and never come back again."

"He killed my family, Grace, "he croaked, "are you expecting me to just…"

"And killing him will bring them back?" Grace cried out, "Your revenge will fail to make your life better, Jane. What do you plan on doing afterwards, when you realized that revenge doesn't change a thing? Hurt the only good part of your life, hurt Teresa Lisbon even more by killing yourself? Do the only kind thing, Jane: leave us alone. Stop destroying what we are, and finish your stupid mission on your own."

She got up and started to walk away, before she turned a last time, looking at him, contempt and pity warring in her eyes.

"Go, Jane. Allow us to heal her, make her happy again. Because believe me- you can't do the job."

The silence seemed to ring in his ears long after she was gone. Jane's hands trembled, and he definitely needed a stiff drink now. The pain was so strong he was afraid of doing something utterly insane, like marching out and drowning himself in the turquoise sea. He wanted to scratch the flesh from his bones, it hurt so much. Burning tears forged their path down his cheeks, they tasted bitter on his tongue.

He got up and left the room slowly, almost staggering, his mind foggy and blurred.

There was only one person who meant "home" to him these days, and he desperately needed to find her.

Xxxxxxxxxx

But Teresa Lisbon wasn't in her bungalow. He wanted to howl in frustration, hit something, break his hand if he had to.

He sobbed like a little child and knew he looked like hell, disheveled and slightly shabby, wearing nothing but a half-buttoned shirt and his pants.

He took several deep breaths, slowly regaining his calm, and finally decided to walk down to the beach. The ocean was perfect, bright and translucent, sparkling in the sun. The warm sand felt soothing under his naked feet, grounding him, and he bathed his toes in the lapping waves, listening to the seagulls' screams.

He walked a little, never leaving the seam of the ocean, his breathing gradually getting calmer, quieter.

He felt so lonely. After all, his existence was nothing but a fight between him and Red John anyway.

He snorted at his own lies and the impertinence with which he dared to repeat them, again and again. He couldn't deny it: there was another person in his life now, and he was an idiot for having allowed her to intrude. But he absolutely shouldn't deny it, it would only weaken him more.

He saw her immediately, her tiny frame unmistakable even in the green summer dress she was wearing, simple and classy, but a dress nonetheless. She sat close to the ocean, her knees pulled up against her chest, head resting on top of her crossed arms. She stared into the waves, and love almost swept him from his feet, bringing even more tears to his eyes.

He couldn't contain this feeling, it was unmanageable, and in this instant he knew that he would never be able to leave her. He couldn't have her, his life belonged to a killer and he would probably go down with him, but he had to seek his lady's shadow like a minstrel, bathing in her presence, chasing every tiny smile she threw him. How he wished he were nothing but a free, innocent man intent on charming the woman who had come to mean more to him than life itself. But that wasn't him, wasn't them. Would never be.

"Ts ts ts, Lisbon," he said, trying to sound cheerful, "skipping meals while you're under my supervision isn't an option."

He sat down next to her, knowing full well she could see he'd cried. Please, he thought, please don't say anything. Just ignore it, please.

"I'm not exactly under your supervision, Jane." She said with a small smile.

He released a breath of relief.

"Sure you are. I pay for this whole hubbub after all."

She chuckled, but she sounded tired, exhausted.

"It's beautiful here, "she said, "but I'm not hungry."

He looked at her closely. Grace was right, she had dark rings beneath her eyes. She was so pale, her slightly tousled dark hair framing her face like a thunderous cloud. Her lips were swollen, her eyes deep and feverish. She needed far more than just a hug.

He stretched and yawned before he lowered his hand and gently jabbed her in the ribs. She yelped, and her stomach growled like mad.

"What was that?" she cried out.

He chuckled.

"If something surprises you and activates your fight or flight reflex, you momentarily tighten your abdominal muscles- which makes your undoubtedly very hungry stomach growl."

He looked at her, wanting to hide her beneath the lapels of his shirt, close to his heartbeat, like a little bird fallen from the nest. She could stay there, sleep against the warmth of his chest, and he would protect her infinitely, softly singing to her to make her rest peacefully. He swallowed.

"You need to eat, Lisbon," he said, "what would the team do without you?"

Please, he thought, use my money, use my life, my worthless body, anything to make you feel better…

And suddenly he realized that this was all he wanted, that he didn't want to plot hideous schemes to worm his way back into the team any longer, that he wished for nothing but this: make Teresa Lisbon happy again. Hightower might be right… maybe pampering Lisbon was the only way to make his fellow agents like him again. But he didn't especially care.

He would pamper Lisbon because there was nothing he wanted to do more right now.

"What's with the little frown?" he asked softly, touching the tip of her nose with his finger.

"I have a slight headache." She answered hoarsely.

"Oh," he crooned , "but that's something the nice uncle can help you with."

He got up and wiped the sand from his clothes before he simply grabbed her hand and pulled her up.

"Come on, Lisbon," he said, "I know a trick that will make you feel lots better in a minute."

She groaned, but he didn't give her time to complain and all but dragged her to his bungalow.

He opened every window in the main room including the French doors, letting fresh air into every niche.

"Sit down." He said, indicating his bed, and went into the bathroom to rummage through his cabinet. When he returned with a small bottle of oil in his hands, she sat on his mattress, watching him out of her large, deep eyes. He sat down next to her and grabbed her hand, slowly correcting her position until she was facing him.

"Close your eyes." He whispered, and she did.

Suddenly, temptation was rampant all around him, her lips were slightly parted, so soft and rosy, her beautiful face smooth and calm. It would be so easy to lean forward and sample her taste, just a sweet touch of the lips, so pure, so peaceful…

He coughed and forced himself to look away, pouring a small amount of oil onto his fingers, warming it by rubbing his hands together.

He gently massaged her temples, his touch careful and soft, humming while the sweet, heady scent spread around them.

"What's that scent?" she asked.

"Lavender," Jane answered, "relieves tension and reduces stress. Perfect for you."

He came closer, scooting over until her nose touched his chin. He was surprised that she didn't pull away immediately, but she just sighed and leaned her forehead against his chest, her eyes still firmly closed.

They were utterly silent while he continued his soothing massage, the tension slowly leaving her body until she slumped against him, totally relaxed.

He stopped his movements, running his fingers over her cheekbones one last time before he pressed a gentle kiss on her hair.

She straightened slowly, staring at him out of wide, vulnerable eyes, so beautiful he could hardly look at her.

"See," he said gently, "all better."

And then he did something so outrageously stupid he would have loved to kick his own butt for it.

He leaned forward and kissed her lips.

It was supposed to be nothing but a friendly peck, a big brother kissing his little sister.

It turned out to be anything but, his body catching fire as if it had been doused with gasoline, his cock so hard in an instant, it hadn't been even half like this when he'd actually had sex in that godforsaken motel room.

Her lips moved beneath his, so sure and warm and confident, he wanted to deepen the kiss, use his tongue, make this wet and hot and sinful…

He broke away with a gasp and found her staring at him much like she had before, open, unafraid, sad. As if she'd seen it all and couldn't be shocked any more.

He made a huge effort to get himself back under control, no doubt visibly so. He forced himself not to look at her, it would shatter the last of his equilibrium. He struggled on his own until he had regained a modicum of calm.

When he looked at her again, he felt his eyes open like a dam, felt unable to hide anything from her. He knew how he looked, pupils dilated, lips soft and parted, eyes wide with wonder.

"Let me feed you, Lisbon," he whispered, "please, I need to."

She shook her head slowly.

"I should sleep, Jane. I hardly did last night."

He took her hand in both of his.

"Then let me take you to lunch later, Teresa. I'll prepare something special, okay?"

She thought for a moment before she nodded tentatively.

"Can I tuck you in?" he asked.

She laughed, the sound like bells on Christmas morning, messengers of hope, spreading their angel wings inside his guts.

"Forget it, Jane." She said sternly, her cop attitude clearly audible in her voice.

"Pretty please?" he whispered, making puppy dog eyes at her, but unable to contain his smile.

She groaned.

"Okay- but you'll leave as soon as I'm tucked in, okay?"

He nodded eagerly and accompanied her to her own bungalow, keeping his hand on the small of her back, feeling absurdly happy all of a sudden.

"It's beautiful." She said, staring at the ocean.

"It is." He answered, his eyes slowly wandering over her face.

"You're incorrigible," she snorted, "will you ever grow up, Jane?"

"You love me the way I am." He said, and suddenly, something serious entered between them, taking root inside their souls, spreading, growing, getting dangerous. He pushed a strand of her dark hair behind her ear and smiled, but it never reached his eyes.

He took her hand and led her to her bed , letting her slip under the blanket before he gently tucked her in, every movement slow and careful. When he had finished, he lay down next to her and tenderly kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her nose. Closing with a peck on her lips, only short this time, he managed to pull back with enormous restraint on his physical and emotional reactions.

"You promised to leave immediately." She whispered, but she was nuzzling his neck, her probing mouth searing his skin.

"What if I don't want to?"

She chuckled.

"Get OUT, Jane."

He groaned and got up slowly, smiling at her before he bowed down for a last kiss on her temple.

"Sleep well, little agent." He said and walked away, opening the door as quietly as possible.

But before it closed behind him, he pushed his head back in.

"Don't forget" he said with a smile, "you have a date for lunch!"

She threw a pillow at him, but he dodged it successfully, blew her another kiss and was gone.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

_Okay- time for a little fluff (and let's not forget that this story has an M-rating it doesn't deserve so far) before the chips come down..._

_Thank you so much for your relentless encouragement. It's funny that it's pretty much the same as last year: I struggled with "Seducing Patrick Jane", and I'm still struggling with this story, although I have an idea where it's going._

_Just be prepared that it won't be all hearts and flowers from now on- the happy ending comes later :D._

_But, in this chapter, there's a little comfort, my friends…_

Chapter 4

Lisbon watched her reflection in the mirror and felt detached, lost. Hope was a traitorous feeling, hadn't it always been safer to be devastated? Desillusioned.

She'd spent her life this way. Struggling to make ends meet. Fighting to make life better for the people who depended on her. Happiness meant being useful, not disappoint the people close to her, battle on even if times were rough.

Her father had never left her a choice, it was her at the helm or certain doom.

But this time, this once, she wanted something for herself, wanted to indulge no matter how long the moment could last. She knew forever wasn't an option. Red John would intrude like he always did, it was only a matter of time.

She was prepared. Had learned from childhood that bad things were always bound to happen.

Just this once. Just a few days. Feeling like a young woman again, silly, happy, in love.

She could still taste his kisses on her lips, and the faint scent of his body on her sheets drove her wild, made her want to go looking for him, not waist a single second she could spend close to him. Free.

She tried to push away the sadness, but she knew it wouldn't leave her. Not like Patrick Jane eventually would.

It was much like driving a car full speed against a wall.

She saw it coming closer. And closer. But she couldn't stop.

Xxxxxxxxxx

He felt like a little boy again- dying to please.

Jane had spent the morning planning and plotting, preparing lunch for his woman, not knowing where this day could lead him.

He'd be spontaneous. He could be patient.

So why was he so giddy and nervous and insecure? It felt as if he were taking a huge leap, were about to do something unspeakable, and he was scared without knowing what in hell that was.

The sand was hot now, warmed by the relentless sun, but the feeling was good nonetheless. He had always relied upon sensual experiences to keep his mind from spiraling out of control, the stronger the sensation the better, so he dug his toes into the shimmering mass and craved the coolness of the sea, glittering only some steps in the distance. He allowed the waves to wash over his instep for some moments before he turned and headed for Lisbon's bungalow.

She was already waiting for him looking like a cuddly little present, dressed in a turquoise summer dress with spaghetti straps, her hair open on her shoulders, her eyes warm and open, expectant. She was waiting for HIM, and he was elated.

He stepped up to her and pulled her into his arms, placing a kiss on her forehead, his urgent hands short of feeling her up. He expected her to push him away, to tell him off, demand that he stop all the kissy-kissy stuff and act like a grown-up, but she didn't. She just leaned into his embrace, her small hands sliding over his back and buttocks in a way he didn't associate with his effective, no-nonsense boss.

They stood like this for quite a while, lost in a cloud of warmth and tenderness, and Jane would have loved to ramp up the game, touch her in more forbidden ways, get her lips under his. But he still had to feed her, so he forced himself to pull back and take her hand, leading her off with a smile. He felt her urge to get as close to him as possible, and the way she pressed her body against his made him greedy, wild, his body reacting to his mistress' wishes like clockwork.

But at the same time, it scared him. She shouldn't trust him, shouldn't make herself open and vulnerable to him, shouldn't want him, for god's sake.

He groaned helplessly and bend forward to press a tiny kiss on her lips, her perfect taste exploding on his tongue, no, she shouldn't want him, should put her defenses up against him, but his arms pulled her closer, until he knew she could feel his erection, massive and demanding inside his pants.

She looked at him, and he smiled, a hurt, tortured smile. She went on tiptoes to kiss it off.

"Let's eat." He whispered and indicated a drape of vine in front of them, hiding what waited behind it. Jane pushed it aside and let her enter, and Lisbon gasped softly.

They were on a small land tongue, facing a calm, perfectly turquoise ocean. A single table stood close to the water's seam, dressed and prepared.

They were completely alone, the silence eerie and comforting, and he was grateful that he hadn't brought her into a crowded restaurant, that he had her all to himself now.

He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss on her bare shoulder.

"You like it?" he whispered, nuzzling the sensitive spot behind her ear.

She nodded, but he felt how she concentrated on his caresses, as if she wanted to suck them up, remember every touch for harder, lonelier times.

He let his hands slide over her flat stomach to her breasts, and when he brushed his fingers against the undersides, it was like a question she answered by pressing closer, her head turning sideways until he could reach her lips.

Their kiss was soft and sweet, a little desperate because both of them didn't really know what they were doing, but it was all they could be at the moment. Perfect in its own way.

He didn't want to stop and turned her in his arms, his tongue reaching out to play, and when she opened her mouth for him he groaned hoarsely in his throat, his hands weaving into her hair, cradling her head to keep her still for more passionate, deeper kisses.

"Teresa." He whispered, and she sobbed shortly, a tiny hiccup of sadness he quickly dissolved by showering her beautiful face with kisses.

He pulled back slightly and took her hand in his, leading her to the table, pulling back her chair like a gentleman.

The view was simply breath-taking, the food delicious.

"You did all this for me?" Lisbon asked, "Isn't that a terrible waste of romantic energy?"

"Oh, don't fish for compliments here, my dear," he chuckled, pouring her some more of the excellent white wine, "you know full well I'm dying to get you between my sheets. You decide if my sorry attempts are a waste."

"Now who's fishing for compliments," she smiled.

It was wonderful to see her smile. And it had been so, so long.

"And?" he asked, just to lighten the mood further," Any chance I'm gonna get lucky tonight?"

"Don't push it too far, Jane," she growled, but she was grinning into her napkin.

He laughed, the sound escaping so easily it surprised him, crystal clear in the humid air.

He offered her his hand, palm up, and almost shivered with satisfaction when she put hers inside it. His fingers closed around hers, and he smiled at her from the bottom of his soul.

"That was delicious, Jane," she said, "thank you so much."

He beamed at her.

"Oh, we're not finished. I've got more to show you."

He got up and pulled her against his body, pressing another kiss on her lips before he moved towards the row of bungalows, pulling her with him. He finally stopped at a tiny clearing, surrounded by palm trees and thick bushes, granting a free view of the glittering ocean. In the middle swayed a large hammock.

Jane released her hand and lay down gracefully, spreading his arm to the side in an unmistakable invitation.

"Come here, Lisbon," he said, "it's big enough for both of us."

She shook her head in quiet amusement, but followed anyway, climbing into the hammock carefully. She was lying almost on top of him, but it felt utterly comfortable, wonderful to be so close. His erection was pressed against her thigh, throbbing insistently, but she ignored it, and he was happy to simply let it go. He put one foot on the floor to set the hammock in motion, soft, swaying movements, he pressed his face into her hair, sampling more of her scent, his arms tight around her small body.

He felt it the second she fell asleep, her breathing becoming calm and quiet, grazing his chest in a gentle, warm flood of sheer air.

He tightened his hold and watched the ocean, smiling, blocking out the past and the future, both things they didn't own. There was just the now, and it was wonderful.

Xxxxxxxxx

Lisbon didn't sleep all that long, after half an hour her body tensed again, and he was almost sad it was over, he'd been happy to be her mattress and blanket.

She pushed up on her arm and stared at him out of wide, scared eyes. It took several seconds before relief mixed into her sleepiness.

"Every time I wake up," she whispered, "I'm scared you could be gone."

Pain lanced through his heart, the sensation unwelcome and hurtful, and he knew she could see it in his eyes. He hated the resignation he saw deep inside her gaze, as if she was so used to being hurt that it didn't come as a surprise any longer, as if she was just shrugging it away, not making a fuss about it. Sometimes, he wanted her to cry like a little girl, just to get rid of all this pain, to show the feelings she more than rightfully had.

"I'm not going anywhere." He whispered, and found that it sounded like a lie.

She leaned forward and kissed him, her little tongue sneaking between his lips, and he gave in with a sigh, putting his hands on her waist to pull her closer, rubbing his erection against her stomach in the process.

She tasted simply wonderful, sweet and chocolaty, like a sinful treat he could never get enough of. A living fantasy, a perfect dream just out of his reach. He tightened his grip, moving her up and down on his raging hard-on, shuddering when she straddled his hips, gladly continuing the gentle stimulation.

He stopped her when he was so close to coming he could already taste it on his tongue, gently pushing her thigh up so she was lying on top of him again.

His kisses became warm, lazy, playful.

"Will you go dancing with me tonight?" He asked against her mouth.

She groaned.

"I hate to dance, Jane."

"Don't lie to me, Lisbon." He chuckled.

"Why should I lie?"

"Because it doesn't fit your iron-hard cop-attitude. Believe me, dear- I know you."

She thought for a moment, watching him with affectionate exasperation.

"Okay," she said eventually, "when and where?"

"I pick you up at eight," he whispered, covering her face with more delicious kisses, "wear something festive- I'm in a mood to celebrate."

Xxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon hadn't brought anything really festive, but she owned a flimsy, almost floor-length black summer dress that would have to do. The night was warm and humid, so everybody would understand why she didn't go for pearls and velvet.

Jane wore his tuxedo and looked like dessert.

She couldn't take her eyes off him and felt dangerously like a love-struck teenager. Luckily, he seemed to feel much the same, and she reveled in the glow of his eyes whenever he looked at her.

He held her hand all the time, and it didn't take long until they found themselves on the dance floor, dancing being the perfect excuse for groping each other in public.

He was so beautiful in the sunset, his blond hair glowing in the fading light, skin sun-kissed and golden. She couldn't stop staring at him, feeling like a little girl again.

But he was more than a crush. He was the only man she had ever truly loved. It was too bad that it would possibly break her back along with her heart, but it couldn't be helped.

A tall, dark-haired man had been eying her for the past thirty minutes before he finally mustered the courage to stroll over.

"May I cut in?" he asked, his voice deep and sonorous.

Lisbon searched for something polite to say.

"I…"

"No!" Jane interrupted briskly, using his body to block her from the intruder.

Lisbon chuckled.

"Not willing to share me?"

He smiled at her, his trademark, megawatt smile, sending shivers of delight down her spine.

"Not at all." He whispered.

He pulled her into his arms, and she pressed her face against his neck, his scent so sweet, clean and fresh, she inhaled greedily while her lips caressed his skin, probing and searching until he shuddered against her body.

He caught her mouth with his, engaging her in wild, hungry kisses, pushing his tongue so deep she almost swooned with delight. Her hands found his hair, she was greedy to feel the silky strands on her skin, he was so many sensations in one, she never knew where to start.

"Patrick," she said, and saw something click into place in his eyes, as if he had found some kind of resolution, slowly taking root inside him.

"Meet me at the smaller pool at midnight." He whispered.

She felt her eyes widen.

"Are you crazy?" She asked breathlessly.

"Yes," he answered, his gaze unwavering, "most definitely."

_Okay, you can guess it- the next chapter will be M-rated. This chapter was shorter, but it's a good (and cruel, I'm sorry :D) place to stop. This was a lot more light-hearted, but brace yourself: there will be some issues coming up in future chapters… just so you're not disappointed when the angst raises its ugly head again. Be assured: there will be a happy ending!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Okaaaaayyy- let's earn that M-rating, huh? What I want to say is: what follows now is very M, you're not comfortable with sexual descriptions- skip this chapter, please!_

_Everyone else: enjoy!_

**Chapter 5**

It felt as if she were starring in a movie, as if this couldn't really be her life, just some kind of crazy fantasy, a spin-off, using characters somehow familiar but strange enough to confuse her.

She walked over the empty beach, a full moon reflecting on the calm sea, still-warm sand running between her toes.

The smaller pool was more secluded than the main one and invisible from the hotel itself, which was obviously the reason why Jane had chosen the spot.

He wore his three-piece-suit, without the jacket, just shirt, unbuttoned vest and pants, and she exhaled slowly in momentary relief, mixed with a disturbing amount of disappointment- if he was still dressed, he certainly didn't mean to…

"You wear a bikini?" he said softly, indicating the neck-holder strap visible through her low-cut summer dress, "Oh Lisbon, you're so sweet."

He came closer, slowly, his smile sexy and unnerving. When he was so close she could feel his clean breath on her face, he let his fingers slide around her neck, untying the strap with a single flick of his wrist.

"You won't need it tonight," he whispered and leaned down to kiss her.

She was almost scared, this was too intense, too close, far, far too dangerous, but she couldn't resist, craved his touch as much as her next breath, his lips were warm, burning against hers, and she gave in with a sigh, opening her mouth to let his tongue intrude.

His kiss filled her senses, he wrapped his arms around her, his tongue playing hungrily with hers before he pulled back eventually, bringing himself into an almost safe distance.

He stared at her, his eyes wide with a feeling she couldn't quite name, awe, wonder, maybe a little fear. But he pushed the vest from his shoulders and started to unbutton his shirt, all the time looking at her, every movement sure and unwavering.

His shirt joined the vest on the ground, but she could just stare back, fascinated and frozen, craving for him to come close again.

The silence was eerie, only the soft lapping of water in the pool, the rustling of his clothes keeping them company. The metal of his belt buckle was clicking. His pants slid down his legs, he pushed his boxers down, stepping out of the puddle of fabric, kicking it aside.

Lisbon swallowed.

He had a magnificent body, lean and taut, he'd lost some weight in Las Vegas. His erection was scary, massive, huge, so hard it almost touched his stomach. How did he manage to act almost normally being aroused like that?

"That looks painful." She said softly, it just slipped out.

He smiled at her, the smile sweet, warm, deeply, deliriously happy. A smile he'd never let her see before.

"I assure you, it is."

He came closer than, pulling the dress over her head in a single movement, the cups of her bikini top falling down, exposing her breasts.

He took a deep breath and cupped them gently with both hands, as if he were afraid he could break them. She shuddered when his fingers grazed her nipples, and all the time he was staring at her face, his eyes wandering over her lips as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

There was something like regret in his gaze, and Lisbon wasn't surprised. She tried to swallow the pain and could only imagine what he must feel like- there was never a second when he didn't hurt. A wave of love, of compassion crashed over her and she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer, burying her face against his neck.

He unknotted her top and discarded it, then did the same with the bottom. Naked, she shivered in his arms, not cold, but exposed, open, ready to be hurt.

Like she had always done during her childhood, she tried to anticipate the pain, tried to imagine what it would feel like when disaster struck eventually, but she had never succeeded, not as a child, not now, and the second his lips met hers again, pleasure drowned every coherent thought.

His hard length rubbed against her abdomen, and her whole body seemed to itch with her want for him.

"Jane," she whispered urgently, but he closed her mouth with his own, pushing his tongue so deep she felt her core melting, every cell screaming with need.

He pulled back and took her hand, gently guiding her to the stairs that led into the pool.

The water had only a slight coolness to it, the warmth of the day only diminished, not gone. The water reached up to his chest, and he pulled her close immediately, his skin so hot in comparison to the water, his arms a strong cage around her, lifting her until she could wrap her legs around his hips.

She was so scared, scared to lose him again, scared that this could only make everything worse, but the temptation was too strong, too irresistible, so she pushed her hands into his hair and kissed him, kissed him while he lifted her so high his erection nudged her core, not penetrating, just a subtle build-up of pressure that made her crave him breeching the barrier. He broke the kiss and looked calmly at her, the moon casting silver shadows on his beautiful face.

It was her last chance to stop him. But she just closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, her lips resting on his forehead when he lowered her slowly, his massive girth pushing into her. Her mouth opened in a futile attempt to relieve some tension while her sex swallowed him, stretching for him so far she had to fight the feeling that it just wouldn't work, that he would rip her apart, make her bleed. It was almost painful, but the pleasure was worse, filling her body, her soul, even her traitorous heart, nerve endings screaming for the one man who could give meaning to anything, who was nothing less than the center of her world.

She gave a tiny yelp when he was inside her to the hilt, his breathing fast and panting now, eyes hot and feverish.

His kiss was soft, reverent, his cock twitching inside her, seeming to harden every time she pushed her tongue between his lips.

She leaned back, stretching both arms out along the rim of the pool, throwing her head back. She shuddered when she felt his mouth on her nipple, teeth grazing burning flesh, making her squirm in his arms.

His grip on her hips tightened, and when she groaned into the night, he started to thrust, hard, fast strokes of his cock deep inside of her, sending a mind-blowing tingle through her system every time he hit home. She'd never felt like this, it simply wasn't allowed to feel this good, her fingers dug into the grassy ground next to the pool, her hips trying to meet his thrusts, but his rhythm was so fast now, he panted so loud it was clearly audible, deep moans of pleasure falling from his lips. The water sloshed around them, and she felt him tighten the second she came, lower muscles contracting until it hurt, trying to milk his pounding length, but he resisted, staying hard and unrelenting, the soothing sensation of his seed flooding her never coming, and before she could react he pulled out, leaving her empty and bereft.

She'd barely come down from her incredible high when he clutched her close to his body and carried her back to the stairs, warm night air caressing her wet body when they broke free from the water's surface.

He lowered her into the grass and pushed her legs over his shoulders, she shivered, so exposed for him now, and the second he pushed back into her, all the way in a single, deep stroke, her arousal was as strong as if she'd never come in the first place, her whole body begging him to go at her faster, harder, damn, he was so deep, piercing her heart.

When she looked at him her breath caught in her throat, he was so beautiful, so passionate, balancing his body on his strong arms, and she pushed him into a frenzy by digging her nails into his biceps, his thrusts getting deeper, faster, filling the whole of her every time he made impact. Her breasts bounced under his speed, he kept pounding into her with all the force he could muster, and she felt her insides melt under the friction, futilely trying to relax when she felt her muscles clench again.

The climax was stronger than the last one, she couldn't see or hear for a moment, her whole system busy with coming, coming so hard stars exploded inside her mind, a blinding supernova of sensation.

Sparks rained down on her, and for a second the past was silent, the future nothing but rumors, and the now was bright enough to build her universe. She had barely regained full command of her senses when he went rigid and came, the jets of his seed inside her so strong she could actually feel them, every long, deep spurt, releasing his creamy juice into her still spasming sheath. The sensation was fulfilling, soothing , and she lifted her hips to take more, his relentless spending triggering another climax deep inside her core, making her shudder beneath him.

It was unbelievable that he still shot more, his body shaking under the onslaught of orgasm, and when he finally pulled out he spilled a few smaller spurts onto her stomach, shuddering through every one of them.

She heard him groan when she let her fingers slide through his semen, spreading the balmy liquid on her skin.

He collapsed next to her, but pulled her close immediately, as if he were unable to tolerate an ounce of space between them.

"I somehow understand why you didn't want to finish in the pool." She whispered breathlessly.

He chuckled.

"Yes, I make a whole lot of mess."

She didn't really know why tears sprang to her eyes. Everything felt so right, so natural, she wanted to hold onto it, and still knew it wasn't her call. It had never been.

"Hey," he whispered, pushing a strand of dark hair away from her face, "don't go sad on me now."

She smiled, allowing happiness to take over, and he rewarded her with a kiss, warm, affectionate, with just a playful hint of tongue. Until she moaned and he changed his mind, ravishing her thoroughly.

They got up eventually, each retreating into a separate little bubble, dressing quietly. He took her hand when they were finished, smiling when he saw that she carried her bikini in her hand.

"Now, "he drawled, "that gives me food for indecent dreams, Lisbon."

She slapped his chest, but her answering smile was sweet and genuine.

His bungalow was first in the row, and they stood in front of the stairs awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

Damn, she hated this. She'd never behaved like a teenager, not even when she'd been the age, so she would sure as hell not start now.

"Good night, Jane." She said simply. "Sleep well."

She had wanted to wish him "sweet dreams", but on second thought it had sounded too much like sexual innuendo.

Why did it hurt so much to turn away and just leave? Her arms were hugging her own body, her steps slow, almost dragging. He hadn't offered to kiss her again. Was it over, so soon?

She tried to brace herself. Everything was fine, it hadn't been more than sex for him, so there was no need to…

"Lisbon," she heard his quiet voice behind her, "would you like to come in and spend the night?"

She almost refused. She wasn't a charity case, didn't want him to feel obliged just because they had…

Everything changed when she turned and looked into his eyes. They were insecure, begging, but distinctly hopeful. They looked like those of a little boy, innocent and pure, and she didn't want to say no any longer.

"I'd love to," she said and saw relief enter his face.

He offered her his hand and she took it, allowing him to pull her into his shady bungalow.

She had hardly stepped inside when her dress was practically torn in half. She stared at him, shocked into silence, and shivered when she saw his intense, lecherous gaze.

"I'll give you one of my shirts," he growled, "to wear over your bikini tomorrow."

He ripped his own clothes off before he pounced her, pushing her back so that she landed on his mattress, legs already spread for his convenience. But now that he had her where he wanted her, he took his sweet time, slowly using his tongue on her nipples, torturing her with excruciatingly slow licks and nips until she was writhing beneath his ministrations.

He smiled cruelly at her.

"You don't want that, do you?" he breathed, "You want me to get all serious on you, agent Lisbon?"

She shuddered, the use of her formal title arousing her beyond words.

He rose onto his knees, granting her a breathtaking view of his marvelous physique before he pushed his arm beneath her body and flipped her over unceremoniously. She pushed up on hands and knees without him asking, and he chuckled softly, his own lust evident in the slight hoarseness of his voice.

"So eager, little one?"

He wrapped his arm around her torso and pulled her up so her back lay snugly against his chest.

"Kiss me," he purred, putting his fingers against her jaw to gently turn her head," devour me. Show me how much you want me."

She attacked his lips hard, and he growled with pleasure, reciprocating her urgent love bites, shoving his tongue deep into her throat.

He put her hands on the backrest and pushed her forward, straightening behind her, his hands sliding down her slim back, fingertips grazing her ribcage.

"Not enough food, little bird." He said and grabbed his erection, gently rubbing it over her wet flesh, making her squirm with ecstasy.

"I know, you want more," he growled, "and damn- I want it, too."

He pushed into her, one deep, merciless thrust, filling her body until there was not a whiff of space left. She cried out, pleasure, ecstasy, the slight pang of pain, flowing out into more arousal when he started to move, his hands on her waist, holding her still for the strokes of his cock.

How hard he was, how big, stretching her walls so much she was blinded by a myriad of sensations, his hips slapping against her buttocks with rapid speed, the friction inside her mounting until her groans grew into screams. He joined in, allowing his grunts of pleasure to get louder and louder, heightening her arousal until she exploded into a ball of fire, her focus solely on the vigorous pumping of his length inside of her, so deep it ignited a spark that devoured her whole being. She screamed, the sound echoing from the walls, and he took her even harder, every thrust making her body shake, had the bed creaking beneath them.

Jane didn't care, his hands on her body were firm, his pounding relentless, he used every ounce of force he had, sensations increasing again, until she came once more, shivering all over, struggling to brace herself.

Jane cried out and came, she felt his hips stilling, his cock widening, lengthening, before the first eruption of warm seed hit her contracting walls. He came like he had before: in long, endless, huge spurts, filling her up until his semen dripped onto the sheets.

xxxxxxxxxx

He rested his forehead against her shoulder blades, careful not to put weight behind the gesture, knowing she could hardly keep herself upright at this point.

He released the last few jets on her legs, knowing how much she loved the feeling of the balmy liquid on her skin.

He kissed her neck, gently, tenderly, before he carefully disengaged her hands from the headrest.

He lay her down next to him, pulling her close, shushing her softly when she still shuddered as if in the middle of a fever.

"I'm here," he whispered, "I'll still be here when you wake up. Just go to sleep."

He smoothed his hand over her hair until her breathing became quiet.

"I love you." She muttered before she finally fell asleep.

His heart clenched painfully in his chest.

There was no way he would find sleep tonight, so he simply held her close ad watched her, her beautiful face solemn in slumber, for once completely relaxed.

The night was warm, so he didn't cover her with a blanket, his arms around her enough protection.

And in the darkness, he cursed a cruel fate that had made him unable to find peace, to open his heart to another human being. Even to someone as precious as her.

He already was far too vulnerable, easy prey.

He had to stop this. But he didn't know how, when it felt more wonderful than anything he'd ever dreamed about.

_Next one is what my husband calls an "ouch-chapter", and I'm not looking forward to writing it. But remember: this story WILL have a happy ending, I promise!_


	6. Chapter 6

_Okay, this is not an easy chapter to write- both so happy , and then the chips come down. But don't be afraid, it's not THIS bad, just a little "Ouch". I need to kick Jane's butt a little harder to make him see the error of his ways- after all, his obsession with Red John IS strong, and it is unlikely that he takes a major leap like admitting he loves someone easily- even in "The Crimson Hat", he chose not to address the subject right away- so I thought I bring in the big guns here._

_And, yes: Rigsby is no…role model of diplomacy here. Meh._

**Chapter 6**

She was so beautiful his heart clenched every time he looked at her.

The music was almost unpleasantly loud, the party in full swing, and Jane enjoyed watching Lisbon, taking a sip of champagne from time to time.

She wore a dress she had bought for this occasion, long and flowing, the color of bright emeralds, with spaghetti straps that emphasized the slimness of her shoulders. She looked infinitely small and strong at the same time, and he found himself smiling whenever she went into her "cop-stance", ready to arrest the next culprit who looked shady.

It was second nature to her, and Jane loved that she never wavered from who she truly was.

His whole body tingled when she fetched herself a drink from the bar and stopped at his side, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Do you plan on making yourself useful and dance with me any time soon, Patrick Jane?"

He chuckled and lifted her hand to his lips, tenderly kissing her knuckles.

He allowed her to pull him onto the dance floor and almost shivered when he enfolded her in his arms, her warm little body heating him from inside, her lips resting on the sensitive skin of his neck. He hardly heard the music, preoccupied with her, tracing her ear with small kisses.

The song was over far too soon, and Grace cut in to tell Lisbon something important (and no doubt boring), so Jane retreated to the bar where Rigsby was just about to attack his third plate, piled high with all kinds of food. To his surprise, the younger agent smiled when Jane approached.

"Hey Jane," Rigsby said cheerfully.

"Rigsby," Jane replied, "done treating me like an especially ugly piece of furniture?"

Rigsby looked at him, thoughtfully.

"You're good for her." He said eventually, indicating Lisbon, who was still talking with Grace, "Even Cho noticed it. She hasn't smiled like this in months, and it's good to have her back. I hope you allow her to be good for you, too, man."

"What do you mean?" Jane took another sip of champagne, but the liquid suddenly tasted bitter.

Rigsby shrugged.

"You have a new responsibility now. When you left for Las Vegas, we could all see that Lisbon isn't fooling around- she loves you, tiger. That's a gift, and it makes you responsible for her. Love is not … harmless fun, but I bet you know that, having been a devoted family man and so… but now that you have Lisbon to consider, you should definitely give up the revenge-thing, once and for all. You can't take care of her while you're obsessively chasing a serial killer. I mean, Lisbon could die on the hunt. Ever thought about that?"

Rigsby talked innocently, light-heartedly, not noticing that Jane's house of cards slowly, inescapably came down.

Suddenly, he was back in that house, turned the knob, saw the bloody painting on the wall, and then… bile rose in his throat and he almost dropped the glass in his hand, regaining control at the last second.

Give up.

Give up revenge, abandon the mission.

Honeymoon in San Francisco, where they had hitchhiked, having no money at all, just love and a bright future. The cry of a newborn, slippery in his arms, he hadn't dared to cut the cord because he'd been so afraid to hurt this precious little being.

They had been his whole universe, and his love had died with them.

Give up revenge? He was nothing more, just that revenge.

How could he have forgotten?

He felt like a monster, a traitor, not worthy to walk the face of the earth. Guilt renewed to painful strength, he made meaningless words of excuse to Rigsby and stumbled into the dense forest of palm trees, blindly finding his way to the beach.

The waves crashed onto the sand, noisy, angrily, foam gushing on their tips.

Tears were blurring his vision, and he felt cold despite the warm evening, pulling his jacket tighter around his shaking body.

The wind had picked up considerably in the last hour, it ruffled his hair, filled his ears with noise and uproar.

He heard someone approaching and braced himself for the impact, refusing the urge to wail, lament, howl like the lonely wolf he was doomed to be.

Lisbon sat down next to him, beautiful as a picture, her long hair whipping around her shoulders.

"Jane?" she shouted to be heard above the wild surf and the wind, "You okay?"

He pulled her up and led her into the protection of the palm forest. Here, the wind wasn't as strong, and she would be able to hear him better.

Not that he knew what to say, not at all. He saw weariness creep into her eyes, before the resignation returned- the firm resolution of a child that had been hurt so often and so much that pain had become a part of his essence.

She nodded slowly, and it drove him insane, almost made him lose his mind that he was nothing more than an asshole who would kick her precious heart into the dirt. Dirt himself, for the rest of his miserable days.

"Listen, Lisbon," he said softly, "the… the man I've been those past days, that's… not me. You know what I am, you know it better than anyone else. You've never betrayed me, always stood by me, but… I can't be that man again. I never wanted to raise your hopes…"

She cringed.

Ouch. Whatever he said, he made it all worse, his words foolish and hurtful, he couldn't soften the blow.

"Look…" he continued, soldiering on despite everything he destroyed with every word, his heart so heavy it almost dragged him down into the sand beneath his feet, "it doesn't mean that we can't touch, that we can't … You know I... have no plans for the time when he's gone. All I know is that everything is gonna end then. I can never be whole again, Teresa, I can't start over. I just want to protect you, please believe me. It doesn't mean that you can't touch me, dear. Just that this can never be more than…comfort sex. I can't LOVE, Lisbon. Those times are gone."

She looked at him, and in this moment he understood what Grace had been talking about. He had always treated Lisbon like a weapon, his strongest sword in his fight against Red John, someone who was willing to love him, to support him, someone who put him above herself, someone who had earned his trust a million times over.

But now he saw that enormous, iron strength in its undiluted form, her gaze blazing like an avenging angel's, ready to die for those she loved without batting an eye.

She lifted her hand and put it against his cheek, slowly stroking his skin as if she wanted to commit the feeling to memory, now and for all times. She nodded again, firm in her resolve, building on this incredible strength.

"I can't do that, Jane," she said slowly, her voice eerily calm, "it wouldn't be fair to you. I told you that I love you, and believe me- those are not words I use lightly. If I accepted you just for sex, this love wouldn't stop. It would always be there. It would be there when you leave the next time, and it would still be there if one day, you fall in love again. My love would weigh you down then, Jane, and I can't let that happen. Don't worry about me. I always knew this would happen. What you gave me was wonderful. But I can't be… I can't do that. I'm in too deep, always was in a way. I love you." She shrugged, and his voice died in his throat, rendering him speechless. "I can't change that. But I sure as hell can't touch you knowing that I will never really have you. That I might lose you any moment. I'm sorry, Jane- I can't."

She smiled a sad little smile.

"One last kiss," she whispered, "then we'll forget the last days ever happened."

She went on tiptoe and wrapped her arms around his neck, gently pressing her lips on his. She didn't use her tongue, obviously not wanting to ignite this mind-blowing passion between them, her lips were soft, warm, probing, as if she wanted to soothe his pain.

He shuddered in her arms, the feelings rampant and agonizing, making his knees wobble.

When she pulled back at last he couldn't still find his voice, quietly watching how she composed herself, taking back control.

"I'll call it a night now, Jane," she said, her voice only slightly hoarse, "Good night."

She turned and walked away, and Patrick Jane's black heart shattered into a million sharp splinters, each one big enough to destroy him for eternity.

Xxxxxxxxxx

He felt utterly numb when he sat on his deck later, as if his life had just ended once again. He tried not to think, to shut his mind down. Utter despair filled his very soul, so strong he could hardly refrain from doing something stupid.

The wind had picked up and was blowing around him with ferocious intensity, but he hardly noticed, too occupied with staying unfeeling and frozen.

He felt so lonely he wanted to die.

He could do nothing but destroy. Taint everything that dared to come close to him, even the most precious of things.

Teresa.

He sobbed violently before he stopped the sound with an enormous effort. He had a duty, dammit, he should be thinking about Red John.

But the void inside him swallowed every coherent thought until everything he had learned seemed upside down, and nothing but fear and confusion remained. Maybe he should leave the CBI. But truth was he couldn't catch Red John without Teresa Lisbon. He couldn't do anything without her.

No matter what he did- he wouldn't find a second one like her.

Tears ran over his face, unwelcome reminders that he wasn't nearly as cold as he would have liked.

The wind was unnerving, but a fitting background to the uproar of his feelings.

His sharp mind reacted immediately when he heard steps approaching, his system going on full alert.

Phil, one of the hotel's waiters, took the few steps to his deck in a vigorous stride, acting nervous and panicked.

"Mr. Jane," he shouted to be heard above the storm, "hurricane Leslie was supposed to miss the Keys, but it won't . Follow me to the theatre, we need to inform you about the planned evacuation."

Jane got up and followed the young man as fast as he could, the wind pulling his dress pants tight around his legs.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon had put up her hair into a simple ponytail, and she wore her Levi's, already in full cop mode. The team surrounded her like a wall, and Jane was once again the outsider, not daring to intrude this time.

The hotel's large theatre was filled to the brim with chattering, scared hotel guests, the storm already strong enough to make the window panes rattle.

A serious looking policeman stood in front of the crowd, surrounded by several fire fighters.

He'd introduced himself as officer Carlton.

"We have to evacuate the Keys as fast as possible," Carlton said, his voice so firm and commanding it easily carried to the last row, " there will be utility trucks which get you to the safe base in Homestead. Unfortunately, we are short on personnel due to an accident at Sun Life Stadium in Miami, which pretty much pulled all available forces. If anyone of you has special abilities or training that might make him useful for this operation, please step forward now- we need every man."

Lisbon rose immediately.

"Sir, Senior Special Agent Teresa Lisbon from the Californian Bureau of Investigation. I would like to help."

"Very well, agent Lisbon," Carlton said, nodding grimly, "Do you have basic medical training or advanced?"

"Advanced. I lead my own team."

Cho got up.

"Her team can help, too."

"No," Lisbon said firmly, "you can help with the early evacuation, but you will leave with the first group. I'm not putting you in danger in a situation we can't overlook. We are rookies here."

Cho snorted.

"Boss, if you think I'll let you risk your life without…"

"That's not up for discussion, agent Cho," Lisbon interrupted, "I'm your superior officer, and you will do as I say."

Cho gritted his teeth, but nodded reluctantly, not wanting to challenge her in front of strangers.

Carlton nodded again, as stoic as a sleepy bear.

"I can understand, agent Lisbon," he said, "I wouldn't risk my people's lives in an unfamiliar situation either. So your team assists with the evacuation and goes to Homestead. You will stay on the Keys with us, helping with maintenance and medical support."

"No!" Jane screamed, "Lisbon, that's insane, you can't do that!"

She looked at him, her deep green eyes calm and composed. But he saw a hint of regret inside them, as if she'd just realized all they might have missed, the future they had sacrificed. The times of hope seemed to lie in another century.

"I have to, Jane." She said" They are not enough people, and an emergency crew has to stay put. I'm glad if I can help."

Jane felt utterly helpless, angry, desperate. For once all his precious skills seemed to have left him, and he couldn't think of a single way to manipulate her, make her abandon this crazy plan.

"Lisbon," he said, his voice sounding a lot more panicked than he would have liked, "you're just a guest in this hotel, you know nothing about these people's procedures. Did you notice how strong the storm is already? You could die out there, dammit!"

"That's highly unlikely," she replied, "they have safe rooms where we'll hide when it gets too dangerous, and Leslie won't possibly even hit us full force. It's only category 3, maybe 4, that's not too bad."

Jane straightened, glaring at her. How had that happened? His whole existence seemed in shambles. He'd always known who he was, what he had to do. Now, everything inside him was a mass of hurt and confusion, and he wanted to scream and kick something, make it stop.

"Why are you doing this? " He growled. "To punish me for not putting a ring on your finger? For not promising you eternal love, more hearts and flowers than you can bear?"

He saw anger flare up in the depths of her eyes, but it was gone in seconds. Instead, her love for him seeped into her gaze, and it almost floored him.

"This is not about you, Jane." She whispered, aware that the team was listening, "It's who I am."

She turned and walked away.

Jane all but collapsed on his chair, his hands trembling so much the tremors wandered all over his body, making him shake like a leaf.

He had cried so much over the last few hours his throat felt sore and dry, but the tears refused to stop, dripping onto his vest like never-ending rain.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Lisbon joined Carlton and his team at the police station of Little Torch Key. Several other groups were meeting all over the Keys, evacuation already on its way.

The storm was pretty scary now, stronger than anything Lisbon had ever experienced in California, and she was glad that Carlton and his men had a firm grasp on the situation, clearly pros when it came to dealing with this kind of situation.

Grace stood next to her, fidgeting nervously.

"Stay calm, Grace," Lisbon said softly, "everything will turn out fine."

Grace nodded with an insecure smile before she turned her focus back to Carlton's speech.

Lisbon was barely able to stop her own thoughts from wandering, going back to the man she had left in the theatre. Jane. His safety was paramount, she couldn't let anything happen to him.

Her heart throbbed like an open wound, but she ignored it, concentrating on Carlton's words. This was no time to be lost and broken.

Before long, everything was said, all orders given, and the Serious Crimes Unit of Sacramento's CBI ready to take their place.

Before she left, Lisbon pulled Cho aside.

"Listen, "she said, "whatever happens- you have to take care of Jane. That's a direct order, agent Cho. Make sure he gets to that safe place in Homestead, and make him stay put once he's there."

Cho blinked, but his voice was as calm as ever.

"Boss- you seriously ask ME to play his babysitter? He's a bastard."

"Yes, I ask you," she hissed, "no matter what you think about him. Jane is MY responsibility, but this time, I can't keep him safe. So I rely on my trusted second-in -command to do the job for me. Is that clear?"

Cho stared at her for a long time, but eventually, he nodded.

"I'll take care of him." He said.

Lisbon nodded and patted his shoulder encouragingly.

"Thank you, Cho. I'll see you soon- in a day or so."

He nodded again.

Lisbon took a deep breath and turned to march into the dark storm.

"Boss?" Cho said, and she looked at him over her shoulder, "I won't disappoint you."

"I know," she muttered, walking out the door, "I know."

TBC

_I realize I possibly took HUGE creative license with the whole hurricane-business. You know, I live in Germany. On Rügen. In the super-calm Baltic Sea. We don't have anything even remotely like hurricanes, so I don't know how they deal with it in Florida. When I asked my husband if there could be an emergency-crew staying on the island to deal with problems, he said: "Nope. If they evacuate, EVERYBODY is leaving." But that didn't fit my story, so I thought, hey, I make this up. So if some of you actually have experienced a hurricane and feel like cringing all the time because I got it all wrong, I APOLOGIZE! I'm just a stupid little German sitting on his utterly safe little island, so PLEASE- feel free to ignore me!_

_By the way: when I started this story, mwalter1 wrote in her review "Don't send them to Florida for a week or so. There is a hurricane right now." And, yep- this gave me the idea ;D._

_Last but not least, remember: there will be a happy ending! I kicked Jane's butt, I bet he got the message- or didn't he? Let's have a look at it tomorrow! Thank you for bearing with me!_


	7. Chapter 7

_CAREFUL, A LITTLE WARNING TO THOSE WITH ALLERGIES: SERIOUS FLUFF AHEAD! Sorry, but I need a little sappy goodness, humor an old woman, please! After all the angst, I need some comfort._

_There's surprisingly much Cho in this chapter, but hey- he promised Lisbon to watch Jane, so…._

_Oh, and since I'm no slash-writer and it's pretty much only Jane and Cho here, there is no M-rated stuff in this chapter! Those of you who don't like smut- you can SAFELY read it!_

**Chapter 7**

They were allowed to pack a few things, only the most important personal items and some clothes. The whole resort seemed to be submerged in an unbearable buzz all of a sudden, people running around, even screaming at each other in their panic.

Cho insisted on accompanying Jane to his bungalow and stood at the door the whole time, blocking the exit, like a bulldog keeping watch.

When he was done, Jane had to accompany Cho. The agent pushed him into a chair far away from the door, threw in a cheery "if you move, I'm gonna rip off your arm" and packed his stuff in twenty seconds flat.

Jane sighed. Cho obviously expected him to vanish like Houdini, but fact was he felt nothing but utter emptiness. He had tried to escape in a quiet moment, had only wanted to find her, talk her out of this crazy plan, but Cho had been at his heels the whole time, and Lisbon could be pretty much anywhere by now.

He slumped in defeat, feeling helpless and useless.

Cho all but pushed him into the bus which would take them to the mainland, and Jane stared gloomily out of the window into the starting rain.

"We should stay here with her." Grace muttered, and her two colleagues nodded in silence.

"If you think we should stay," Jane said, "why don't we…"

"SHUT UP!" all three agents shouted simultaneously.

Jane held his hands up in defeat.

"I just try to say…"

Cho, sitting next to him in true watchdog-mode, turned until he was facing him.

"Listen, Jane," he growled, "I promised the boss to get you to Homestead, and make sure you stay there. It's enough for me to see you, so shut your mouth and look out of that window. If I want you to do anything else, you'll get instructions, that clear?"

Jane rolled his eyes, but stayed silent.

Every second carried him farther away from her, it felt almost like physical pain, he had to fold his hands to stop them from tapping a nervous rhythm against the window, his mind screamed at him to get up and run, do anything to find her, bring her back where she belonged, but the team was too close, and Jane lost more of his self-control with every ounce of distance the bus brought between him and the Keys.

Tears started to fall, hot and wet on his face, dripping onto his shirt, his vest. He bit his lip to stop the sobs from emerging, noticing Grace's compassionate stare.

They were brought to a large high school, empty for the summer holidays, together with countless evacuees from different hotels all over the Keys and South Florida.

Being volunteers, the team was assigned a small classroom they had to themselves. It contained nothing more than four cots, sleeping bags and blankets draped over them.

Jane's heart clenched painfully when the number sank in- one of them was missing. They weren't complete.

He spent long painful hours sitting on his cot, staring ahead.

Grace and Rigsby were given jobs around the building, helping with the evacuation, supporting people in getting settled for the night.

Only Cho seemed to have no other purpose than watching Jane. He even accompanied him to the bathroom, but right now, Jane didn't care.

The pain was so strong, and suddenly there was no doubt left about the nature of his feelings. He cried like a little boy, tension growing inside him, until he got up and started pacing the room. He walked until his legs grew numb, long after Grace and Rigsby had returned and fallen asleep in their cots.

Jane sat down on his own bed again, his insides burning with longing and regret, fear so strong it formed a lump in his throat, making breathing a painful affair.

He tried to feel her, out there, tried to connect their souls. If something had happened to her, he would feel it, wouldn't he?

He wailed low in his throat. The last thing he had said to her…

His breath was wheezing in his lungs, his vision blurred by tears. He felt so dizzy he simply doubled over, until his head rested on his knees.

Cho covered his shoulders with a blanket, and Jane vaguely noticed that he sat down next to him.

"I never told her that I love her," Jane whispered, tears evident in his voice, "She told me, but I… there wasn't time."

Cho was utterly silent.

"No," Jane sobbed, "that's a lie. She doesn't deserve my lies. I was a coward. I was too scared to tell her. And now it could be too late."

Cho put his hand on Jane's shoulder, squeezing encouragingly.

"Boss is tough, Jane. She will make it. Nothing really drags her down."

Jane straightened and looked at Cho.

"Why do you try to comfort me? You hate me. I bet you would like to- how do they say- rip me a new one."

"Right now," Cho said tiredly, "kicking you doesn't seem like a whole lot of fun."

It was silent for a short while.

"Has she ever been in a hurricane before?" Jane asked, his voice hoarse and strangled.

"Not as far as I know," Cho said, "should be quite the experience."

Jane smiled, but the tears were falling again, in earnest, large, swelling rivulets on his face.

"Guess you know how it feels now, huh?" Cho said after a while.

Jane stayed silent. Brooding. His bravado was gone, he felt raw and naked.

"Will she take me back?" he asked.

"That's not the question," Cho answered, "you know she always will. Love doesn't change the world, Jane. It just changes you. You don't have to become a whole new being. But you have to look around you more often. She's the woman you love, Jane. More than anything else, she deserves that you look at her, really see her. Are you ready for that? To see someone else than yourself, the past and Red John? That's the question."

Cho lay down on his own cot, and again, silence settled over the room.

"It's well past midnight." Cho said eventually. "Go to sleep, Jane."

Jane snorted.

"I seldom sleep, agent Cho. You honestly think I'm gonna start now of all times?"

Cho sighed, before he took his book and his flashlight and started to read.

The storm drummed against the panes, making them rattle in their frames.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Phil was the official assigned to their shelter, and he was a bear of a man. At least a foot taller than Jane and about three times his bulk, head shaved into a gleaming bowling ball, the black man was a pretty scary sight.

"Good morning," Jane exclaimed cheerfully, sauntering over to Phil's small desk in the entrance hall, "would you be so kind to relay the reported fatalities to me, my friend?"

Phil sighed.

"Mr. Jane," he said calmly, "this is the twenty-seventh time you asked me to do just that. And I'm telling you for the twenty-seventh time: I won't. If I told you- and this number is purely hypothetical- that ten people have died, you would automatically assume that your woman is among them. But there's no way anybody can tell if she is. Cell phone connection to the Keys is nil due to the storm, and I won't tell you what the radio says. So why don't you sit down and meditate or read or try something else to stay as calm as possible? PLEASE!"

Jane spent the day wandering the school's endless hallways, again and again, Cho following him like a shadow. They hardly spoke to each other.

He would feel it if she were dead, wouldn't he? He certainly wouldn't be able to stay that calm if… damn, he didn't even believe in that crap.

Soul-mateship, that was nothing but New Age malarkey. Wasn't it bad enough that he had fallen in love again, when he had sworn that would never happen?

His skin itched for her touch, her voice rang in his head. She couldn't die. Not thinking about his last words to her, hurtful and mean, spoken in his sheer desperation to stop her.

_Why are you doing this? To punish me for not putting a ring on your finger? For not promising you eternal love, more hearts and flowers than you can bear?_

How he wished he had done just that. He hadn't even hugged her, should have used those last moments to hold her close. Heavens, these darn tears drove him crazy, would they ever stop?

He played with the ring on his finger.

His past crashed down around him like a suffocating wave and for a moment, he allowed the pictures to wash all over him. They were gone. His life, his future, gone.

But there was a new spark, a new hope, something more than revenge. And he couldn't deny it any longer. With a keening, painful sigh he pulled the ring from his finger and put it into his vest pocket.

He looked at Cho, who stared back.

It was utterly silent except for the raging storm.

Xxxxxxxxxx

Jane couldn't eat, his stomach felt like a lead deposit. He was painfully aware of the fact that his left ring finger was bare, and it didn't help that Grace couldn't stop staring at it whenever she was close.

He was grateful that she refrained from commenting, though. Everything inside him felt raw and chafed, and he was perfectly happy staying silent for now.

There were rumors that Leslie was now definitely category 4. Jane spent the afternoon staring out of the window into the pouring rain.

The glass was cool against his forehead. He was so absorbed in brooding thoughts that he hardly noticed Grace and Rigsby returning late at night, crashing on their cots, numb with exhaustion.

Cho lay on his own sleeping bag, reading.

Jane lay down eventually, rubbing the spot where his wedding band had been.

His voice was small and weak, almost like that of a frightened small boy.

"I want a new ring." He said. "Hers."

Cho sighed and started to read aloud.

"_I hit you. Won't that make you go away? What else can I do?" he snarled. He'd fallen back on his old standby, anger._

"_I'm not going away, Cole, so maybe we can cut out the assaults in the future. You don't want me to go away. I know that. You LOVE me, Cole. That's the feeling that makes you so angry." She'd sighed and looked at the ceiling. "You don't know what to do with it, because the people you've loved in the past caused you pain. That's what you think love is. Pain."_

_She'd looked at his face until he met her eyes. They were still green._

"_But, Cole, I love you. Have I hurt you? Ever?"_

_Cole had to shake his head. She hadn't. Not once._

"_I'm showing you what to do with love, Cole." _

_She stood and held out her arms._

_A hug. A simple hug he didn't have to earn by throwing a chair. Human contact that wasn't required because he was trying to hurt someone. She still trusted him. She still saw something in him._

Cho looked up from his book. Jane was asleep. For the first time in 28 hours. He took a deep breath of relief and turned off his flashlight, submerging the room in comfortable darkness.

Damn that man.

He lay on his cot, thinking.

Please, boss, take care. If you don't return, no one can save Patrick Jane.

Xxxxxxxxxx

At some point during the night, the storm had lessened. In the morning hours, the rain stopped, leaving a strong wind that wasn't all that bad. Leslie was weakening.

Jane dressed as quietly as possible, taking his shoes into his hands, sneaking through the room on tiptoe.

"Don't even think about it." Cho said behind him.

Jane sighed and turned around, looking at his wide awake shadow, sitting upright on his cot.

"I have some errands to run, agent Cho. Care to accompany me?"

Cho shrugged.

"Sure."

Jane had to ask his way around the town, and the trip included a lot of walking, but Cho didn't complain once.

Jane guessed he was glad to be out of their makeshift cage for a while. At noon the clouds parted all of a sudden, and sunshine broke free.

Jane blinked, his stomach giving a painful lurch. She had to return. She just had to, there was no other possibility. He swallowed drily.

They finally found the shop Jane had been searching for in a quiet little lane close to the city's center.

Jane stopped at the entrance, his hand on the doorknob, and looked at Cho.

"You insist on accompanying me inside?"

Cho looked at him completely deadpan.

"You mean, would I risk you finding a way to escape through the backdoor, or charming the owner into letting you out through the basement, or climbing through a bathroom window just to let you have this moment of privacy? No."

"That's what I thought." Jane sighed and went inside, Cho close behind him.

The jeweler looked up, clearly not expecting customers so short after the hurricane.

"I'd like to look at your collection of wedding bands." Jane said.

He took his time to choose. He needed one which looked exactly like his old wedding band, so he took it out of his vest pocket for reference. Thank god it was a simple golden ring, nothing flashy, so it was easy to find a similar model. It wasn't a big deal guessing Lisbon's ring size, he was quite good at things like that.

"I want these," he said, "can you engrave them, right now? Just names?"

"Sure," the jeweler shrugged, "if it's just names, it takes me half an hour. Which ones do you want?"

"Patrick Jane for the small one, Teresa Lisbon Jane for mine."

The jeweler wrote both names down, showed them to Jane to make sure they weren't misspelled, and vanished through a door behind the counter.

It was completely silent for a moment.

"You have anything to say, Cho?"

There was a hint of a grin on Cho's face, gone as fast as it had appeared.

"Nope. Go ahead."

Xxxxxxxxxx

They walked back to the school through the eerily sunny city.

"What if she says no?" Cho asked.

Jane shrugged.

"Doesn't matter. For me, she'll always be my wife."

"She'll be back soon." Cho said.

Jane stopped dead in his tracks and looked at his quiet companion.

"You don't know that." He said, looking at the new ring he wore on his finger, his voice sad and lost. "She could be badly hurt or…"

"I know it." Cho interrupted.

"How can you know it?" Jane cried out.

"She called me this night from the Little Torch police department, when you were out cold due to severe sleep deprivation."

"WHAT?" Jane yelled, "And you didn't care to tell me that?"

Cho looked closely at him.

"I wasn't sure you deserved to know it."

They walked in silence, Jane torn between mind-blowing relief and confusion- how could he have missed this? He'd truly been out of it if he hadn't noticed an important detail like a nightly phone call, dammit!

She was alive! She would be back! His body tingled with love, gratitude, the sun suddenly that much brighter, the rays warming his skin. The scenery, decorated with palm trees and tropical flowers, was quite beautiful.

His knees were weak all of a sudden, his mind slightly dizzy. He'd never been that relieved before, it was a nerve-wracking feeling. He moved as if he were in a trance.

He needed to see her, as soon as possible. He had no idea what he would say, he didn't want to talk at all, wanted to hold her, feel her small body close to his, her heartbeat throbbing against his chest, her…

"Jane?" Cho said.

"Yes?"

"Her first words were "Is Jane alright?""

TBC

_Okay, yes, we'll have Lisbon in tomorrow's chapter, don't worry!_

_The passage Cho is reading to Jane is taken from the wonderful book "Poughkeepsie" by Debra Anastasia, it's considered romance, so Cho possibly wouldn't read it, but since this is MY story, I didn't leave him a choice. The part seemed pretty Jane/Lisbon-like, so I put it in :D._


	8. Chapter 8

_Okay, this is my last chapter, and I urgently need some sleep... thank you so much for all the reviews and alerts, the support and encouragement!_

_I'm gonna write more soon, I'm sure, but you know me: I don't like to write on and on, my stories have to end somewhere. _

_May I remind you of the M-rating? Yep. it still applies.  
_

**Chapter 8**

Jane couldn't sit still. He tried to show as much composure as he could, but he felt like jumping up and down, needy and restless. His gaze wandered to the front door, again and again, damn, he couldn't wait any longer…

"Stop fidgeting," Cho said, "or I…"

"Hush," Grace interrupted, smiling softly." don't be mean. He's cute."

Jane smiled, but it felt strange on his face. He just wanted to see her- no. He wanted more.

He closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, using every trick in the book to calm his mind. He had no idea if she would accept him, he had said horrible things, had behaved like an idiot.

He opened his eyes and released a shuddering breath.

The day was hot and sunny, and a small group of people had gathered inside the school to wait for "their" volunteers and officials- those who had worked especially close to the hurricane.

He saw mothers, sons, wives. Everyone had bags and backpacks with them, the storm had receded, they were free to go now. Just waiting for the most valuable things they had, their loved ones.

His heart skipped a beat when he heard a door clapping in front of the building, a collective gasp running through the crowd.

A tall man entered the entrance hall of the school, officer Carlton, who was immediately jumped by a small, blond woman who had been waiting as impatiently as Jane had.

All hell broke loose than, people clapping, shouting, pushing forward to find the people they had missed so much over the last two days.

Jane stood absolutely still, his eyes wide and open, his heart hammering against his ribcage.

Xxxxxxxxxx

All those people made too much noise, and she couldn't stand it.

Lisbon hugged herself against the unwelcome onslaught of sound, she had spent almost two days in a bubble of noise and wanted nothing more than a stretch of complete silence. No, that wasn't true, there was a thing she wanted more: Jane.

She noticed that she didn't quite dare to search for him, although she wasn't scared. She wasn't demanding anything, this wasn't a negotiation, nor a foreboding of battle. It was what love looked like, and she was well able to take it in all its forms. She had never loved somebody else the way she loved Patrick Jane, and even if he would never be ready to make this last step- it was a gift in itself.

Every relationship she had had felt almost ridiculously harmless compared to this. And this was good.

Struggling against the elements in an entirely strange environment had set her straight about that. She had nothing to regret.

Loving him wasn't a mistake, a foolishness she should have avoided at all costs. It was wonderful that she could love like this, that she had the chance, this once. It was good that he was in her life. Everything else was not really important.

She raised her eyes and scanned the crowd for him. It was seconds until she found him, only some feet in front of her, and she stopped dead in her tracks. She knew she wasn't a sight for sore eyes, she had a scratch on her forehead and several on her arms, but at least she had showered and donned a slightly too big spare uniform Carlton had given her before boarding the bus which was supposed to bring her to this. To him.

He stood completely still amidst the bustle, it was like a bee-hive around him, but he didn't move. And when she looked into his eyes, she knew it.

Suddenly, everything fell away. The anger, the sadness, the desperation. He was what he was. It was all she would get, and it was more than enough.

She had always been able to deal with reality. She'd never been one to believe in fairy-tales, wizards, magic dust that could make everything alright. She'd always know that what you saw was pretty much what you got.

Patrick Jane couldn't be better than he was. He was enough. And she loved him so much it hurt, in the best of ways, deep down in her clenching heart.

It was a feeling he couldn't reciprocate, she reminded herself, so she dug her fingers into her thighs just to give them something to do when he…

She almost startled in shock when he finally moved, his stride graceful and vigorous, covering the distance between them in seconds. Without saying anything, he sank to his knees In front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Incredible warmth filled her body, every cell, every niche, and as if on instinct her hands dove into his hair, silky-soft to her touch.

She lifted her tear-filled eyes and saw the team, Grace, Rigs, Cho. They were smiling at her, and she smiled back, and still Jane's arms held her tight, as if he wasn't willing to ever let go again.

"Good to see you, boss," Cho said, showing one of his rare smiles.

Grace nodded.

"Let's talk later. We'll give you two some privacy now."

They walked off and Lisbon went down on her knees in front of Jane, gently caressing his tear-stained face. She kissed his lips softly and realized how hard it would be to stop doing this. She smiled a secret smile. She would have to learn not to touch him. But she could go slow.

"Are you alright?" she asked breathlessly.

"You're hurt." He whispered, touching the gauze pad on her forehead.

"Only some scratches." She answered against his lips. She would indulge just for some moments more, and then stop forever.

"But this is a head wound, Teresa, you should have that checked in…"

"I was cleared by a doctor," she interrupted, "it's not even a concussion, Jane, believe me, I'm absolutely fine."

"I love you." He said.

In that moment, everything clicked into place, and she was almost surprised that she didn't doubt it, didn't find it the least bit strange. She had always known that he loved her, no matter what he'd said. Just as she'd known that despite his flaws, he would always be worthy of her love.

"I know." She said and it was nothing but the truth.

"What I said to you on our last evening at the resort and later at the theatre…"

"I already forgot it, Jane."

"…I was a jerk."

She smiled.

"You were. But it was hardly the first time."

He chuckled, pulling her close, his strong arms around her like a fortress nothing could destroy, a place she could feel safe in.

"So you forgive me because I'm a habitual idiot?"

"No," she whispered, kissing his neck, "I forgive you because you are MY habitual idiot."

He shuddered at that, his arms tightening around her for a second before he released her and got up, offering her his hand.

"Come with me," he said, "I have to show you something."

She took his hand and followed him as he led her through dark hallways, up and down several stairs, until they entered a dusky hall, a few rays of sunshine seeping through dark red drapes. The school's auditorium.

They sat down next to each other on plushy, velvety seats.

It was silent until without preamble, he slid off his wedding band and handed it to her.

Lisbon's breath caught in her throat.

"Jane," she gasped, "I… I can't take that!"

"Oh," he chuckled, "that's not a gift, I want it back in a second. Read the inscription inside."

She did, and felt the color drain from her face.

"This… this is not yours." She whispered.

"It's not the old one," he said softly, "but it's still mine. I will wear it for the rest of my life."

She felt the tears starting to spill. Why did this feel so right?

_Teresa Lisbon Jane._

She hadn't thought about getting married in years_, _always assuming that it just wasn't for her, that she was meant to be alone. But suddenly, it felt almost logical, and her heart was so full she could accept it, just go with what she wanted most.

With a shuddering breath, she took his left hand and slipped the ring back on. When she looked up, she saw a tear dripping from his chin onto his shirt. She smiled gently.

"I have one for you, too." He said and reached into his vest pocket, showing her the inscription before he put the small golden band on her finger.

"You can't wear it for now," he whispered, "only here in this room. For now, it's the only wedding we can have, Teresa, my love. I chose the same model I wore before, because Red John can't know that it's not the same ring. He can't know you're my wife, so you can't wear your ring until he's gone. I'm so sorry, love. But I swear I'll make it up to you. Once he's dead, I'll give you whatever you want. A wedding with three hundred guests, on the beach, in a church in the Alps or a farm in Tuscany, whatever you wish. If you want a flashy ring encrusted with diamonds, I'll…"

"No," she interrupted, "this is all I want."

She lifted her hand and touched his face, and the way he closed his eyes, as if he had been starved for her touch and could find peace only now that he had it back, meant so much more to her than words or gold.

"What do we do now?" She asked.

He kissed her lips, gently, almost without any pressure, a butterfly touch.

"Well," he whispered, "what do bride and bridegroom do after the wedding reception?"

He slid from his seat, kneeling down between her legs, his hands already wandering to her belt, opening it with deft movements. Their kisses grew hot, fevered, and her lips trembled against his, blood rushing in her ears like an endless river.

She knew they could be caught, knew she shouldn't do this, but hell if she cared right now, she would have this little bout of indecent behavior just for herself, for both of them.

Her fingers fumbled with his pants while he slid hers from her body.

"No panties?" he breathed, licking over her lower lip.

"They didn't have those at the police department," she answered before she plunged her tongue into his mouth, shoving deep, claiming him roughly. He was hers, and she would never, ever give up fighting for him.

He shoved his pants and boxers down and pushed both her legs over the armrests, spreading her wide, opening her for him. She shivered when the cool air hit her hot flesh, and suddenly the longing was urgent, painful, she arched her body to get closer, fast.

He was hard, massive, she could feel him nudging at her entrance, the promise of fulfillment heightening her desire, making the need so strong she wanted to scream. He looked into her eyes, his own hot, bottomless pools of green glass.

"Mine." He hissed and pushed inside, sliding into her tight sheath in a single, deep, relentless stroke.

Time and space ceased, turned into a giant, pulsing sensation. She felt the almost familiar sensation of being stretched beyond her limits, her walls struggling to accommodate his size, his enormous girth.

His balls hit her buttocks, his cock driving as deep as he could go, so deep she felt him everywhere, her whole essence filled by nothing but him.

She felt bereft when he pulled back, her whole body begging for him to return, fill her once more, and he did, pushing into her again before he started to thrust in earnest. He knew so well what she wanted, needed from him, he went at her fast and hard, making her small frame shake under the momentum of his fierce strokes.

"Harder," she whispered, and he clutched her hips, holding her still for his deep, hammering thrusts.

He started to sweat, and she slid her fingers over his face, trembling when he turned his head and kissed her ring she still wore on her left hand.

He was pounding into her now, their hips slamming against each other, the moist, hot sounds of sex filling the room.

She started coming with a keening cry of satisfaction, and he groaned heavily when her muscles contracted around him, trying to milk him dry.

She almost lost every shred of her sanity, the release filling every fiber of her body, pulling her as tight as a bowstring. Nerves seemed to explode with pleasure, and she came again when he started to spurt into her, sharp jets of balmy, warm seed, filling her to the brim.

He pulled her close while he emptied the last of him inside her, her legs wrapping around his waist, holding him firmly inside her.

His kisses were sweet and playful, and he whispered his love against her lips, again and again.

"Don't doubt it, Teresa, "he breathed, "never doubt how much I love you."

They spend precious minutes inside each other's arms, just holding, touching, kissing, until finally, they had to get dressed again to find the team.

Lisbon sighed, she couldn't wait to get out of the too large uniform and into fresh clothes.

Before they left the room, she slipped the ring from her finger and put it into her purse that she wore in her back pocket.

They looked at each other, a moment of understanding passing between them. They would catch their nemesis, and start their new life together.

He took her hand and led her back into the entrance hall, now almost void of human life.

A huge black man holding a clipboard beamed at Jane.

"See?" he said, "She's alright. I told you."

Jane chuckled.

"Thank you, Phil."

The team waited for them in a far corner, Grace pulling Lisbon into a bear hug as soon as she was close enough.

"You're a freaking hero, boss!" The young woman exclaimed.

"I'm not," Lisbon muttered, "I… saw some pretty horrible things."

Grace nodded in understanding and released her.

"So," Rigsby asked, "what now? Honestly, I could use some fresh clothes."

"That's fine," Jane said, "we have about five hours of shopping before we have to go to the airport to catch our plane. I'm still paying."

"It's sad, "Grace sighed, "we only had five days at the resort, and I didn't enjoy it as much as I should have. Too bad we missed two whole weeks of our vacation because of Leslie! I almost don't want to go back now…"

"Oh," Jane said, "we don't go back to Sacramento right away. We've been granted three weeks of team-excursion, and we shall sure have it."

"So where are we going?" Lisbon asked.

Jane pulled five tickets from his suit pocket.

"Hawaii." He said with a smile.

To collective shouts of delight (with the exception of Cho, who had been present when Jane had bought the tickets and therefore wasn't really surprised) Jane pulled Lisbon close, smiling deeply, and before long everyone was marching out of the school, more than ready for some days of postcard idyll.

Lisbon pulled on Jane's hand, causing him to lag behind with her.

"Hawaii?" She said with a sweet smile. "You don't take any prisoners, do you?"

"See it as our first honeymoon," he answered softly, "I intend to give you many, many more."

The End

_Aaaaaaaaaaaawwwwww, fluffy, I know- sorry, I was in the mood for some postcard idyll myself. Let's see what my muse concocts next, right now I'm looking forward to sleeping in tomorrow… for my writing, I get up at five o'clock a.m., to have about four free hours before my kids get up… So I'm a little sleep-deprived myself. Thank you so much for reading this fic, SEE YOU SOON!_


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